Project: Andromeda
by Walkeroflonelyroads
Summary: He left the Milky Way behind for a second chance at life, to start anew, and by chance he was included in Pathfinder Ryder's team. However, chaos reigned on arrival at the Heleus Cluster, and soon Jonathan Chang Walker found himself at the forefront of an Initiative on the brink of collapse.
1. Opener

_So, this is how I die._

 _My panic disappears as I realize what I must do. Sara's brow furrows, her eyes pleading, beads of sweat running down her face, glistening. Through the comm channel, I could her choke, her throat tightening with each attempt to draw breath, a soft hiss of oxygen escaping through her smashed faceplate, damage too extensive for a quick omnigel fix. She reaches a hand out to me, and that is all I need._

 _So, to have come this far, to seek a new beginning for myself after all I've been through, I'm giving my life to save another, even if she is a complete stranger to me. I suppose I should feel fear, but I have left it behind on Akuze. What I'm feeling is, oddly enough..._

 _Peace._

 _I murmur, "Hang on, Sara."_

 _I reach up with both hands, fingers on the decoupling buttons on either side of my helmet. Initiative hardsuits and helmets are custom-tailored to the individual, but for safety reasons atmospheric seals for both hardsuit and helmet are universal. In a few minutes it will be me choking for air, but it's a fair trade._

 _After all, I am the spare. The expendable one._

 _I apply pressure to the buttons. Sara's eyes widen as she realizes what I am about to do._

 _Then a black gauntlet strikes my hand away from my helmet._


	2. Prologue: Hyperion

The darkness closed in. It was like being closed into a coffin – the thought caused his heart to pound. What if the procedure goes wrong? What if he wasn't fit enough to go into cryo?

Intense cold. It bit through his jumpsuit, eating straight into his flesh. He sucked in a breath involuntarily.

The dark claimed him.

* * *

He breathed.

The first thing his subconscious became aware of was how tight his chest felt, like iron bands around his torso, squeezing gently. He himself was woozy, half-asleep, like waking up from an afternoon nap to realize it was raining outside, a comfortable state between the world of the awake and the asleep. A part of him wondered.

 _Where am I?_

Boot camp? The Alliance sure had soft beds and warm blankets, a lot more comfortable than what he was used to in the slums, despite what the other boots said about the place being spartan. He remembered being the last one awake most days, muscles aching from all the training, because it was just so damn _comfortable_ …

His brain caught up with his subconscious, slow, a glacier moving.

 _Why is it so hard to breathe?_

Definitely boot camp. Sarge had the habit of knocking down the oxygen content in the barracks to see how the boots reacted. He willed himself to take a slow, deep breath, holding it, allowing his body to absorb the precious oxygen.

He barely filled half his lungs when his chest tightened suddenly, seizing up. His throat itched, then began to burn.

 _What in –_

He struggled to move, sluggish, attempting to throw off the blanket. Something was definitely off. He opened his eyes, but darkness greeted him. Wherever he looked, it was inky black. He can't see anything, not even when he managed to bring his hands in front of his face –

His hands struck something solid, directly above him. _Not boot camp_. Then where –?

 _Focus_ , he told himself, despite the burning in his lungs. _Find a way out_.

He let his hands wander, moving his legs as well. As far as he could tell, he was in some sort of box, on his back. Metallic, by the sounds of it, as he thumped a knuckle against the surface.

 _A coffin._

The thought caused him to panic.

He braced himself against the sides of the box, bringing his knees up against the front. He'd hidden in storage crates before, but never something like this. Right now, he needed to get out _get out get out get out_

His head swam.

He pushed hard, bracing his back against the back of the box. Push. PUSH. HARDER.

He gritted his teeth. _Don't give up!_

He pushed.

* * *

The technician turned in alarm, almost dropping her datapad, as the cryo pod burst open, the cover clanging onto the floor, the sound loud in the cryo bay, the occupant inside gripping the sides of the pod, hauling himself out before tumbling to the floor in front of her. Before she could do anything, he took a deep breath and threw up all over her boots.

He coughed and spat, sucking in lungfuls of air. She remained motionless, too shocked to move.

"Uh," she mumbled after a few moments of silence, punctuated by more coughing. "Welcome… to Andromeda?"

* * *

He wrapped his hands around the warm mug, the smell of coffee strong in his nostrils. He kept his eyes closed, the light still too bright for him. The ache in his right hand was ebbing slowly; he clenched his fist a few times, grimacing.

A male voice told him that he was in Andromeda already, strong hands lifting him off the floor, helping him over to some sort of bench, or bed, a hard surface, shoved a mug of coffee into his hands. Said that a faulty reading meant the technician missed his awakening until he broke himself out of that damn pod. A first, apparently, on the ark Hyperion.

He cracked an eyelid open. When the pain didn't come, he opened his eyes slowly.

Cryo recovery bay; he recognized the place from the preflight tour. He was at the far end of the bay, next to the wallscreen. Around him, the place was bustling, at least fifteen people that he could see, mostly medical personnel tending to those recently awakened, datapads in hand, omnitools scanning. Several marines were in the corner, stretching and laughing, exchanging fist bumps and handshakes.

Across from him, an asari doctor was tending to a brown-haired human girl about his age. She was sipping from her mug of coffee, her too-wide mouth curled in a smile as she chatted animatedly with the doctor. Her eyes were an amazing shade of blue.

He recognized the doctor, and his spirits lifted.

Dr. Lexi T'Perro. She was one of the few people he trusted completely, another being Pathfinder Ryder himself. She moved with efficiency and confidence, never wasting energy on a careless gesture. Her speech mirrored her actions: she only asked pertinent questions, spoke little outside of professional discussions, not one for idle talk; that was why he got along so well with her. Many people think that due to her 'severe' personality and the asari's ageless appearance, Lexi T'Perro is a matriarch. On the contrary, at two hundred and seventy five, Dr. Lexi was one of the youngest asari he knew.

One characteristic unique to her that the other asari he'd seen so far didn't possess, was a thin white band splitting her bottom lip, extending to her chin. He'd never asked about it; didn't feel appropriate. It didn't detract from her loveliness, however, and as she turned away from the girl and came over to him, he felt the heat rising in his face, quickly lowering his face and taking a sip of the coffee. It was strong and bitter, and chased off the remaining wooziness he had.

"Jonathan Walker? Let's get you checked out."

He looked up. "Hey, doc."

She smiled warmly. "Hello, Jonathan. I trust you slept well?"

Jon shrugged, setting his mug aside. "It was alright."

He sat still as she ran her scanner from her omnitool up and down his body, nodding in approval at the readings. She held his head gently in her hands, and he struggled not to become lost in her brown eyes as she inspected his face.

The wallscreen activated, images of alien worlds scrolling past. A male voice provided narrative.

 _The selection process saw the Andromeda Initiative evaluate thousands of potential habitable planets within the galaxy. After discovering an unusually high ratio of potential candidates, or "golden worlds", the Heleus Cluster was selected as our destination._

"Look here, Jonathan?"

He followed her finger with his eyes dutifully.

 _Now you are a part of the first wave of Arks arriving in Andromeda, our new home for humanity._

The wallscreen image changed, displaying a woman with her hands on her hips, clad in the Initiative blue-and-white. She had short black hair, full lips and a pair of eyes that, even on a screen, burned with determination. She was flanked by two other Initiative personnel in full explorer gear, both looking outward, the perfect recruitment ad if he ever saw one.

Jien Garson. Founder of the Andromeda Initiative. He wondered when he would get to see her in person.

Dr. Lexi tapped on several items on her datapad, her eyes flicking up briefly to look at the wallscreen. She gestured with her chin.

"Makes it sound so easy, doesn't it?"

He shrugged.

"Knowing you, Mr. Walker, you're always ready for anything. And just in time, too."

His raised eyebrow asked the question for him.

"Word came down, the Pathfinder wants the team mission-ready within the hour," she tilted her head at him. "Didn't say why, but something's up. He requested your presence, too, up on the bridge, asked you to gear up as well."

"Got it, doc." _Why does Ryder want to see me?_

Dr. Lexi closed Jon's file, setting the datapad aside. "Okay, everything checks out."

Jon nodded, getting up. "Thanks, doc. Talk to you later."

Uncharacteristically, Dr. Lexi laid a hand on his arm. "Be careful, Jonathan," she whispered. "It may be nothing, but be ready, just in case."

* * *

Sara Ryder was excited.

Here they were, finally! Andromeda! After so long, after all the training they went through. And now Dad wanted them mission-ready! She would have bounced around cryo recovery if she could. Instead, she settled for jumping to her feet, a grin on her face. What will they see down there? Ruins of an ancient civilization, like the Protheans?

Dr. Harry Carlyle ambled over, swiping at something on a datapad. "Enjoy your nap, Miss Ryder?" he enquired. "Don't think I'll need sleep for the rest of my life."

Sara chuckled. Same old Dr. Carlyle, even after a half-century's nap. Good to see humor wasn't dampened by cryo. "Maybe another decade or two wouldn't have hurt, doc," she quipped, throwing a few punches into the air to get her pulse going.

He laughed at that. "Ha! Good one."

Dr. T'Perro walked over to her. "Well, Sara, no reason we can't get you on your way. Though," she half-turned, gesturing to a cryo pod in the corner. "You may want to hang around, while we revive your brother? It always helps to see a familiar face."

Scott! She almost forgot about him. Sweet little brother!

Sara began moving towards Scott's pod. "Sure, Dr. T'Perro, I –"

A deep thud resonated throughout the Hyperion's hull. Cryo recovery fell silent as all eyes swiveled simultaneously to the ceiling, all activity halting abruptly.

Sara was the first to speak. "Uh, I don't like the sound of that…"

More thuds, then the unmistakable sound of something dragging across the hull. Sara was familiar with it; during one of her expeditions, the research team's ship accidentally jumped into a debris field coming out of a relay. She and her squad had huddled in the escape pods, nervously waiting for the pilot to plot a course out of the field as pieces of debris contacted the hull, dragging, scraping. That was a close call. Now?

Another thud, louder. Sara unconsciously reached for something to hold onto.

The overhead lights flickered.

The entire Hyperion _lurched_.

The force of impact threw everyone off their feet. Sara fell to her knees, her grip on the bedframe loosening, while Dr. T'Perro's datapad went spinning as she pushed herself up from the floor. A marine near the far end slammed into the wall with a loud "Oof!"

The floor tilted. Sara felt her heart leap.

"Doc, look out!"

She moved, tackling Dr. T'Perro out of the path of a loose cryo pod sliding across the floor. As the pod went past, it _took flight_ , lifting off of the floor.

As did everything else in the bay.

As well as everyone. Sara scrabbled for a handhold – too late. She went zero-G as well. The sensation was odd.

"Woah."

Dr. T'Perro was breathless. "Thanks, Sara." She looked about. "What in the name of the goddess…"

Chaos.

Screams echoed down hallways, some of fear, some of agony, of pain. Everyone and everything unsecured were now floating in midair. The loose cryo pod came to a slow rest in the middle of the room, completing several revolutions.

"What's happening?" called out Dr. Carlyle from the other side of the bay.

" _Engineering, report!_ " came a voice over the comm.

"Try to brace yourselves!" called out a technician.

"Careful of the syringe!" said Lexi loudly as it went past, needle drifting free from its sheath.

" _Gravity in cryo bay's offline,_ " came another voice over the comm.

So many things happening at once. Sara tried to take it all in even as she adopted a slow drift.

" _I'm almost inside, hold on!_ "

Sara's head snapped up at the voice. "Lieutenant Harper?"

* * *

Jon finished his prep, checking his reflection in one of the mirrors.

The underarmor, he thought, was a brilliant piece of work. A unique sort of weave, completely sealing the operator in a protective suit, reinforced with metallic components where necessary, especially the spine. It could double as casual wear, albeit looking a little military-like; it's hard to think of the suit as 'casual' when you're shaking hands with someone while wearing gauntlets. Additional ablative armor pieces snapped onto their slots on his shoulders, thighs and knees. The chestpiece closed over his torso in two halves, the back half containing the jump pack and weapon slots.

He found his pride and joy in the weapons locker. Reaching in, he grasped the M-96 Mattock and pulled it free of its securing straps, expertly checking the weapon. Every dint and scratch on its surface was a testament to the shit it had seen him through, and though he was advised countless times to switch to a brand-new, newly-upgraded Mattock, he kept this particular one, even modifying it to the extent that it's hard to call it a Mattock anymore. But it packs a punch, and Jon had a keen eye and steady hand, all of which earned Ryder's approval, so it stayed with him.

After all, they got out of Akuze together. It was like an old friend to him now.

Safety on, he snapped the weapon to his back, the Mattock folding into a more compact shape. Several thermal clips went into the loops on his belt. A sidearm, the powerful M-358 Talon, clipped onto his right thigh guard. No one had ever questioned his choice of weaponry, despite them being of Cerberus design.

That suited him just fine.

A spare M-8 Avenger snapped onto his left weapon slot. In contrast to his personal Mattock, this Avenger was state-of-the-art, but completely unmodified, vanilla. He didn't need it, really, but he had a spare weapons slot. Might as well make use of it.

Another parting gift from Akuze: you'll never know when things might come in handy.

All in all, the gear bulked him up, making him look heroic, like those explorers in the Initiative vids. He almost smiled at the thought, before catching sight of his reflection staring back at him. Eyes that were haunted by the things they'd seen.

He averted his gaze. He was no hero. Just lucky.

Helmet under his arm, he strode briskly to the tram. Technicians and engineers were running about, working at sparking panels, the acrid smell of burnt plastic in the air. Just moments earlier, Lieutenant Harper had managed to restore gravity to the cryo bay – something about a fault in a power line. He hoped everything was alright; he wanted to help, but Ryder had summoned him to the bridge, and it wouldn't help anyone to disobey orders now.

* * *

"Everyone okay?"

"I think so," said Dr. T'Perro, looking about, hands flat on the floor. She stuck her bottom lip out, raising her eyebrows – if she had them – at Sara.

Sara got to her feet, dusting herself off, helping the doctor up. "What happened?"

"We're not sure; sensors are scrambled," said Lieutenant Harper, walking over to them. She smiled slightly. "But it's good to see you're up. Feels like centuries since we spoke," a hint of humor in her voice.

Dr. T'Perro went to check on her patients, while Sara fell into step alongside the lieutenant as she exited the bay. "We're going in, Ryder. Ready?"

Sara glanced at the lieutenant out the corner of her eye. Harper was a person who intimidated her; she was pure military, disciplined, and it showed in her bearing, her speech. Her back was ramrod straight, eyes bright. One jarring feature about her that definitely wasn't Alliance regulation was her hair. Instead of keeping a ponytail, like Sara, Harper had the hair on the right side of her head buzzed to the scalp, the rest of her blonde locks swept to the left side of her face, obscuring part of her left eyebrow and eye. The tips of her hair were dyed a dark gray.

The Ryder twins had trained their biotics under Harper preflight; her prowess was a sight to behold. Sara recalled that she served with asari commandos before Dad picked her up for the Initiative. Ta-something's Daughters, apparently an elite unit. She often wondered how a human got to train with the asari, the mistresses of the art of biotics. She wished that one day she would be as powerful as the lieutenant herself. Maybe with less discipline, though. Sara loved to kick back and relax once in a while; Lieutenant Harper looked as though she needed some R&R. Scott once said she seemed to have a stick up her ass sometimes.

"I think so. How can anyone be ready for something like this?"

"True. Lucky for us, we have your father. Just stay close and listen to what he has to say. And do as he tells you to."

"Got it, LT."

Sara's omnitool vibrated. " _Sara? We have a problem. It's your brother_ ," came Dr. Carlyle's voice over the comm.

* * *

"Helm control, report!"

"We're drifting!"

"Flight controls aren't responding!"

Jon stood just inside the bridge's door, keeping out of the way as pilots and flight technicians ran from console to console, checking the Hyperion's status. Seems like the damage was more extensive than he thought; he wondered what did the Hyperion collide with. Asteroids? Another ark?

Captain Nozomi Dunn strode between her crewmembers, raising a hand, pointing at a console. "First priority is stopping these outages!" she declared. The crew hastened to respond to her orders.

The view outside caught Jon's attention. They were still in space, stars dotting the black abyss, a view he saw before entering cryo, a view he was familiar with from his days with the AGeS. Hours spent staring out the window, eyes wide in wonder at the _nothingness_ of it all. He'd grown into his teenage years thinking that the Earth was all there was to life. And to leave Earth behind, to finally see the Milky Way – it took him a while to process it all.

He recalled a quote from an old movie, the title of which he'd long forgotten: _there's no relative direction in the vastness of space. There's only yourself, your ship, your crew. It's easier than you think to get lost._

Seemed appropriate. Here they were, in uncharted space.

He snapped out of it. _Focus_. Space outside, true, okay. The Hyperion is damaged somehow. Right, people are trying to fix it. Is it because of _that_?

He once sat through a lecture by Dr. Lexi on the anatomy of the human central nervous system, as part of the S.A.M. briefing. It was a bore to him, mainly because he didn't understand even the introductory part, but what got his attention was when the doc pulled up a constructed image of the neuron network. It was a complicated, tangled mess, but the more he studied the hologram, he realized there was a sort of ethereal beauty to it, the complexities of biology, a thing he would never understand but could appreciate the beauty of.

The… _thing_ , cloud, whatever, outside the viewport, was just like Dr. Lexi's hologram. Only it wasn't ethereal. It didn't appear to even be benign.

It looked _dangerous_.

It roiled, changing form constantly. It was sufficiently large enough that it extended beyond what Jon could see through the viewport. In its depths were nodes of a sick yellow light that pulsed to whatever rhythm it deigned to follow. He half expected lightning to erupt from within the cloud and strike them.

Was that what they hit?

"Mainline power's been knocked out! We're on reserves, Captain. They won't last!"

Jon whipped his head around at that announcement. _That bad_? He felt the gravity of the situation sinking in. _A ship without mainline power's a ship that's dead; it just doesn't know it yet_ , a shuttle technician once told him.

"What's our position?"

The deep, resonant voice of Alec Ryder preceded him as he entered the bridge. Even after training under him for a year, Jon felt shivers as Ryder turned his gaze upon him. He stood a little straighter, fingers tightening around the helmet under his arm.

"Pathfinder. Engineer Walker, reporting in as requested."

Ryder nodded, then turned to assess the situation. Jon relaxed slightly.

One of the pilots piped up. "Unknown – we've lost telemetry!"

Ryder's eyes were glued to the phenomenon outside the viewport. "Sam, we need telemetry."

The AI's voice emanated from all around the bridge, mechanical, robotic. " _Attempting to adjust sensor array._ "

The captain sighed in frustration. "Alec, please. You may be Pathfinder," she extended a hand out to Ryder, almost pleadingly, "but this is _my_ ship."

Ryder gripped the console in front of him. "Captain, the protocol's clear: in the absence of communication with the Nexus or the other..."

Jon felt a presence beside him – Lieutenant Harper. He acknowledged her presence with a nod. To his surprise, next to her was the brown-haired girl with stunning blue eyes he saw earlier in cryo recovery.

"… our appointed golden world. Solid ground."

Captain Dunn shifted uncomfortably as Ryder spoke. Now she threw her hands up in exasperation. "If it's even out there! Nobody said anything about running into an energy cloud – and that's just a wild guess what we hit!"

The captain's words hung in the air as everyone pondered what she said. Ryder's eyes burned holes into the viewport.

"Alec, I need to assess the damage. Stop the bleeding. We've got twenty thousand people asleep on this ship," said Dunn, after composing herself, her voice even. "Let's give them a chance to wake up."

Beside Jon, Harper whispered, "Can you blame her?"

Privately, Jon thought Ryder's decision was a sound one – right now, the ship was limping, possibly on its last legs. Solid ground, where they can find someplace to set down, was the logical choice. Better an alien world than the ship exploding or disintegrating in space, where no one can hear you scream.

The brown-haired girl had other ideas, though. And she couldn't keep her voice down for the life of her. Jon cringed internally.

"Well, she is the captain. I'd think she gets the final word."

Harper inhaled sharply. "Well, he might –"

Ryder turned, finger pointed squarely at them. "This isn't about having the final word," his voice indicating what he felt about their comments. Captain Dunn looked away.

Harper straightened, chastened, her voice crisp. "Yes, sir." The brown-haired girl looked down at her feet, lips twisting in disapproval, brow furrowed.

Ryder's gaze stayed on them a while longer, lips thinning. Jon could sense something unspoken in that look. Ryder's height didn't help; he positively towered over Jon, making the gaze look menacing. Although he said nothing to warrant the Pathfinder's wrath, he felt himself quail under that look.

A pilot broke the uncomfortable silence. "We're coming through!"

All eyes turned to the viewport. Captain Dunn's voice was quiet. "My god."

* * *

 _The Hyperion cleared the cloud it was trapped in, shedding external plates as it went. It slowed as the planet came into view, as if surprised by the cloud that extended all the way around it. Overall, the planet was green, but a large dark splotch within the northern hemisphere told the explorers on board that something was wrong, very wrong; that splotch was the size of a continent. A ring of asteroids encircled the planet._

 _That's Habitat 7. 'New Earth', if we're lucky. All of our long-range scans told us it was in the green zone. Perfect for human settlement._

* * *

"Sam?"

" _The energy from the phenomenon is damping our sensors. Planetary conditions are unknown_."

Sara felt a chill run down her spine. While she strongly believed that the captain had the last say – it was her ship, after all – she recognized the import of the situation, one that was beyond the capabilities of a ship's captain. Dad stared at the hologram of Habitat 7, side-by-side with the actual Habitat 7 outside the viewport. There was nothing similar at all between the two. She thought it would be a verdant world, as the scans said.

Now, she wasn't so sure. The initial excitement she felt was now gone, replaced by a pit of dread in her belly.

* * *

Ryder cleared his throat. It sounded like a growl.

"We're marooned. Twenty thousand souls adrift at sea. And when the power runs out, and stays out…"

He pointed at Habitat 7.

"We need to know if that's safe harbor."

Captain Dunn crossed her arms. "And if it's not?"

"As Pathfinder, it will be my job to find an alternative. It's what we trained for. But if this goes well, we're already home."

Captain Dunn bit her lip, weighing what the Pathfinder just said. At length, she sighed, her shoulders drooping, conceding defeat. "All right. Just make it quick."

Ryder moved to the door. "Harper, the rest of the team should be awake by now. Have them spin up two shuttles. Planetfall in thirty."

"Yes sir!"

As Harper and the brown-haired girl left to prep, Ryder laid a hand on Jon's shoulder, holding him back. Jon tensed instinctively.

"Walker. You must be wondering why I summoned you."

Jon nodded. "Sir."

"Well, I wanted to brief you on leading the secondary team down, after my team has scouted the place, set up a monitoring station. Nothing permanent. But…"

Jon kept his silence as Ryder's eyes unfocused for a moment. Something's wrong, he could feel it in his gut.

"But now, I'm a man down in my team. My son, Scott. He's... in a coma."

Ryder's voice was steady, but his hand tightened on Jon's shoulder. For a moment he looked like an ordinary man, worried at his son's condition. Not a hero of the Alliance. Not the human Pathfinder of the Andromeda Initiative. The wrinkles on his face deepened as he frowned. Jon had never seen this side of the man before. He hesitated.

"I'm… sorry to hear that, sir. Is Dr. T'Perro –"

"She's working on it now. What I propose now, Walker is this."

Ryder inhaled. "You'll take Scott's place on my team."

Jon's pulse rate spiked. "You mean…"

Ryder straightened. He became the human Pathfinder again, eyes glinting, mouth tightened. The leader Jon had sworn to follow into whatever trouble they might encounter in this new galaxy.

"Yes, Walker. Welcome to the Pathfinder team."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Jon stood in the hangar bay, looking around in wonder. He'd never been in a starship's hangar bay before, only land-based ones, and the differences were all there for him to take in. A lot smaller, that's for sure, and less lighting too. One of the two shuttles Ryder asked for was already prepped, sitting in the middle of the bay, pointing towards space, a mass effect field maintaining the bay's atmosphere. Several bay crewmembers were winching fighters out of the shuttles' way, clearing a path. The pilots were completing their preflight checks.

Lieutenant Harper and the brown-haired girl made their way across the bay, suited up. Harper's armor was unique, the ablative material incorporated right into the suit alongside the environmental protection weave – she didn't need any underarmor or a chestpiece. Jon knew that it was a personal touch, like his Mattock, given that she was more a biotic than a gunner. The girl wore standard Initiative gear – she looked good in it. He smiled to himself and looked away. Maybe he should say hi. After the mission, perhaps?

"All right team, button it up. We leave in five."

Ryder emerged from the shuttle. He wore what many Alliance soldiers hoped to put on one day in their careers – the iconic N7 red-and-black. The armor on that suit was far better than anything anyone was wearing in this hangar bay – for the best Alliance soldiers only. The loose circle of the Pathfinder team closed in on their leader, some cradling assault rifles.

Lieutenant Harper stepped forward. "Sir, we broke out the weapons as requested. Anything we should know about?"

"Seemed prudent, given the situation." He looked at the brown-haired girl. "I heard what happened. Your brother's strong. He'll make it." He laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. Harper cast a concerned look in the girl's direction.

The dots connected; Jon's mind reeled. This brown-haired, blue-eyed girl was Ryder's _daughter_?

She squared her shoulders. "He better. Six-hundred-year nap, and he oversleeps?"

Ryder smiled at that. "You know him. Never was an early riser." As soon as it appeared, the smile was gone. "Just don't let it get to you, Sara. I need you sharp."

"Yes sir."

Ryder sighed. "Your mom would have been proud. Of both of you."

 _Sara Ryder, huh?_

The Pathfinder withdrew, turning to face his team. Jon could feel the anticipation in the air, at what the Pathfinder was about to say; everyone shuffled a little closer. He admitted that he was just as eager as everyone else.

"Okay team, listen up."

"I chose each of you for the Pathfinder team, not just because you're talented and passionate. But because you're dreamers, like me. We dream of exploring the unknown, of finding the edge of the map – and then discovering what lies beyond. When people look back on this," he held his arms out to the side. "And they will, they'll remember we didn't give up. We kept dreaming. That our first few faltering steps in Andromeda were the beginning of everything they know. We only get one chance to be first."

Now Jon could see why people spoke in awe of Alec Ryder, one of the first through the Charon Relay, N7, and Pathfinder. He spoke with conviction. He spoke with the confidence that whatever lay ahead, everyone will manage to get through it. His words echoed of promise, of _hope_. That's what the Hyperion needed right now. Jon lowered his head, feeling small. He was just a replacement team member. He didn't even have a S.A.M. implant.

"So, let's go make history!"

With those words, Ryder turned and entered his shuttle, Lieutenant Harper following him, the shuttle door closing behind her. The second shuttle came to rest beside Jon, fresh from storage. The exhaust of the shuttle distorted the air.

Jon clambered on board, casting one last look at the hangar bay. The feeling that he didn't belong stayed with him as the shuttle lifted off smoothly.

* * *

 _Ark Hyperion, this is Shuttle One, switching to manual guidance._

 _Shuttle Two, taking your lead._

 _Good luck, Pathfinder Team._


	3. Freefall

"Turning to vector one-three-five."

" _Copy that. We're on point._ "

From this distance, it was clear that the Hyperion suffered more damage than Jon thought; several compartments were vented to vacuum, multiple hull plates missing, some parts of the ark dark. The cloud that the ark managed to escape from seemed to reach out with its malevolent tendrils, trying to snag it, to drag it back into its depths. And here he was, thinking a starship of that size can't possibly be crippled so badly.

"Wow, would you look at that," said Sara Ryder, pressing her helmeted head against the port side window, palms flat against the glass. One of the pilots – Greer, Jon thought his name was – turned his head slightly to look at the ark. "Whatever it is, it stopped the Hyperion in its tracks."

The shuttle was one Jon was familiar with – the UT-47 Kodiak. He'd spent a lot of time on one, back in the day, just like this – descending to the surface of an unexplored planet, in the Skyllian Verge. The Initiative version was a lot roomier, though, with plenty of space to move around in, compared to the AGeS version – easily twelve people can fit in the cargo hold, Jon estimated. He wasn't complaining; back then, he had to sit with his knees against his chest, surrounded by crates of equipment.

S.A.M.'s voice came in Jon's ear. Since he didn't have an implant, he had to resort to manual comms.

" _It appears to be an unstable mass of dark energy._ "

" _Steer clear of it,_ " came Ryder's voice over the comm, Shuttle One over on the port side.

Jon brought up his omnitool, running a quick check of his systems. The familiar action of swiping through the menus, double-checking the status of his armor, his kinetic barriers, even his weapons calmed him, giving him something to focus on than the apprehension and excitement he felt. Just like in the old days. His omnitool's screen blurred for a moment as the shuttle vibrated hard; he grabbed hold of a rail to steady himself.

"Getting some chop here," said Greer, hands flying across the controls.

" _Gravity anomalies detected_ ," explained S.A.M.

After a minute, the ride became considerably smoother. The co-pilot, Kirkland, chuckled. "Thanks. My stomach appreciates that."

"Accelerating to cruising speed."

Jon finished up his checks, running a finger around the helmet's seal on his neck; it was firm. He hardly felt the acceleration, but from the way the Hyperion was dwindling to a speck, they were going in, fast. Time to see what they're up against. He unclipped himself from his seat, making his way over to the port side with ease, hand over hand, using the handrails bolted to the ceiling.

"Hey."

Sara Ryder looked at him, turning her helmeted head his way. The light reflected from the planet – bounced off from some star Jon was unaware of – illuminated her face, her blue eyes sparkling. "Saw you in cryo earlier, then on the bridge. I'm Sara Ryder. No H, just Sara."

She held out a hand.

Jon felt his face warm up. His hand shook as he took hers. Her grip was surprisingly strong.

"Jonathan Walker. Friends call me Jon."

"Good to meet you, Jon," said Sara. "So, what are you? Your specialty, I mean."

"Combat engineer. I build things. Destroy them, sometimes," said Jon. "Spent time with the AGeS. You?"

"Recon specialist. I've always wanted to be the first on another planet. You've ever done something like this before?"

He shrugged. "Once or twice, in the Verge, looking for mineral lodes."

"Wow, the Skyllian Verge? Was it dangerous?"

"Depends, if we're lucky. Some days it's just go in, put up a probe or two, get out. Other days, we stumble across slavers and pirates. Ain't pretty."

"Sounds exciting," sighed Sara. "All I ever did was carry rocks around. But I really loved the fact that we were looking for Prothean artifacts, they are so _intriguing_ –"

"You know, you two can switch off your comms, you're broadcasting," said Kirkland, stifling a grin.

Jon's face burned. Sara spluttered as she looked for her mute button.

* * *

"They seem to be getting along pretty well, sir," commented Lieutenant Harper.

Ryder merely grunted, his eyes on the planet ahead, which was swelling to fill the cockpit's window, a sea of gray-green. Harper wondered why Ryder picked Walker to substitute his son on the team; Kosta was a crisis response specialist, he was probably better-qualified than a combat engineer attached to an Alliance Geological Service team, civilians, the whole lot of them.

Walker was an enigma, despite her being the Pathfinder's second-in-command, privy to almost everything he knew. Ryder picked him up about a year before the Initiative launched, but that was about it, other than he hardly spoke to anyone besides Ryder himself, and T'Perro. She ran a combat sim with him once; to his credit, he was as capable as any Alliance marine she served with before she went off to join Talein's Daughters, in addition to his engineering specialty. Maybe there was something to him that Ryder saw, but she didn't?

Well, he just said he served in the Verge. Must have seen a lot of combat, besides having a lot of technical know-how. Harper made a mental note to pull Walker's file for a second look once they were back on the Hyperion.

The interior of the shuttle was bathed in a yellow glow as the shuttle entered the atmosphere, the air in front of the shuttle heating up as they descended.

" _Flight guidance is scrambled_ ," came the voice of Kirkland, on the other shuttle. Still green, Kirkland, a flight lieutenant fresh off his second tour. Could use some guidance. That was why she selected Greer to be part of the team, approved by Ryder; a seasoned veteran at forty-nine, Greer knew how to handle the young ones. As he did now.

" _Relax, Kirkland, it'll pass. See? We're through_."

The glow dissipated slowly, the two shuttles now descending through steel-gray clouds. A dark form to their left solidified into the peak of a great mountain, as if it were rising through the sea of clouds surrounding it.

"Damn," whispered Harper. She'd never seen anything like it.

The gray continued as they sped even lower. More mountains poked through the gloom. Harper thought they should at least have a visual of the ground by now. No luck. It was as if they were caught in a perpetual twilight, a thunder storm.

"Shuttle Two, are you seeing this?" she queried.

" _Copy that. Doesn't look like a golden world from here_ ," Sara responded. Shuttle Two, to their starboard, looked like a ship from Old Earth, bobbing actively atop gray waves.

" _Ionization levels rising_ ," warned Kirkland.

Ryder's voice was flat. "Stay on course to the landing zone."

" _Oxygen levels are below minimal human requirements_ ," said S.A.M. helpfully.

* * *

Fisher, the navigator, was checking environmental conditions around them on his omnitool. Bewildered by the results he was seeing, he commed the team. "Is… this the right planet? I thought we had it all worked out."

" _Keep it tight, Shuttle Two,_ " said Ryder tersely.

Sara peered intently. Something was definitely wrong with Habitat 7: the cloud layer was too thick. And the mountains, some of them were…

"Uh, the mountains, they are… floating?" said Jon, awe in his voice.

Sara had to agree; they passed several rock formations, some of them skyscraper-sized, which floated in midair. She followed them with her eyes until they disappeared into the gloom behind them.

Something else came into view – Fisher caught sight of it first. He half-stood, not believing his eyes. "Look, port side!"

* * *

Harper's eyes could just make out several shapes below them, port side. They were too regular, too many straight lines and edges, to be any sort of natural rocky formation. A light or two shone through the gloom. As they advanced, she could confirm visually that those were built structures. Meaning, there was probably alien life here.

"That has to be advanced engineering," she commed.

"Hyperion, this is the Pathfinder. We've got evidence of alien civilization," said Ryder. Even through his faceplate, Harper could see the fire in his eyes as he surveyed what they've all seen.

First contact was coming.

"Remember, team. We stick to contact protocol. No use of deadly force unless hostile intent is clear."

An alien species! Harper felt her pulse race.

* * *

" _Remember, team. We stick to contact protocol. No use of deadly force unless hostile intent is clear_."

Sara nodded at the reminder. "Copy."

Jon was still staring at the structures as they disappeared from view, more clouds passing them, obscuring vision on either side of them. "Those things… Prothean?" he breathed.

"Definitely not," Sara said, grabbing onto a handrail as the shuttle's floor dropped from under her. The ride became a little choppy. "Prothean structures are usually built straight, like a tower, or spire. Those were sort… like arches, I think? We need –"

The shuttle juddered violently.

Fisher, who'd unclipped himself from his seat to capture images with his omnitool, went sprawling onto the floor, rolling towards them. Jon reached a hand out reflexively, grabbing a hold of the soldier's rig before he smashed head-first into the posterior bulkhead. He grabbed hold of a seat, nodding a breathless thanks to Jon, strapping himself in.

Sara gripped the ceiling railings with both hands, trying to steady herself. "What's going on?"

Kirkland cursed. "Shit! Ionization just spiked –"

A bright flash. Jon's vision went dark for a moment, his helmet's faceplate failing to dampen the sudden split-second increase in light. His hearing worked fine though; an alert was playing on the pilots' consoles.

He recognized the sound. Electronic disruption.

"LIGHTNING STRIKE!" came Kirkland's panicked voice. "I'VE LOST CONTROL!"

The shuttle was struck by a huge hammer. Sara lost her grip entirely, falling sharply to the starboard side of the shuttle, where she collided hard with the wall. Jon threaded his arm around a wall-mounted handrail, half out of his seat, reaching out for her. "Sara!"

He risked breaking the bones in his arm, but Sara had nothing to hold onto. His fear was that she may tumble all around the shuttle, maybe even crash into the pilots. She grasped his arm, pulling herself along the tilted floor of the shuttle like a rock climber.

"I got you, Sara. Hang on!"

"SHUTTLE TWO DECLARING EMERGENCY!" yelled Kirkland. Greer's voice was conspicuously absent from the comm; most likely he had been incapacitated. The thought sent ice through Jon's veins.

They were in deep shit.

Another sideswipe. Sara, still gripping Jon's arm like a vice, swung outwards and struck the starboard door – which popped open. The wind gushed into the shuttle as Sara lost her grip. "NOOOOOO!"

She slid out the open hatch, her legs whipping in the wind. Somehow, she got her fingers in the grooves of the door. Jon unclipped himself, extending the straps to their maximum range, wrapping them once, twice, three times around his right arm, even as he reached for Sara with his left.

He scrabbled desperately, fingers inches from Sara's own. Already her fingers were loosening as the force of the wind tossed her about, her strength ebbing. "JON!"

The last thing he remembered was her terrified eyes staring right back at him when the final hammer struck.

* * *

It was quiet.

Sara had watched the vids before. How the Old-Earthers did what they called skydiving. It was loud and noisy, the wind flapping in your ears, your clothing. She always wondered what it was like to be in freefall. Some said it was a feeling of weightlessness. _It felt… liberating_ , others said.

She didn't feel particularly liberated at the moment. She was _fucking terrified_.

She knew she'd trained for this, the countless hours, Dad calling in favors to give her and Scott unofficial N7 training. But right now, her mind was a complete blank. Weightless.

At this altitude, what would happen if she hit the ground?

She screamed.

* * *

Jon awoke to find himself falling.

He heart leapt into his mouth. _Focus, Jon. Focus!_

 _Okay, okay_.

He spread his limbs out, as they taught back in Advanced Training. Increase your surface area, slow your descent. He blinked up options in his faceplate, selecting his jump pack. He tightened a fist.

The jump pack fired, thrusting him forwards a few feet. Exactly as how it should function, to provide a quick boost upwards, for climbing and such. Not exactly what he needed now, though.

What he needed now was a long, slow burn.

He checked what's underneath him. The sight was truly frightening – he was falling towards a damned _mountain range_. Craggy rocks. He noticed a white speck far below, arms and legs flailing.

Shit. Sara. Or Fisher.

He brought up his omnitool, the simple act of drawing his arms inwards a monumental task. He bypassed the jump pack's safety protocols, setting it to extended burn. It would probably mean the destruction of his jump pack from the heat, and maybe injury to himself, but now wasn't the time to think of that.

He tested the jump pack as a couple of fist-sized rocks sped past, one slamming painfully into his knee – the armor plate there cracked. He allowed five seconds of full burn, confirming he got it right.

He angled his body towards the white speck, tucking his arms to his sides and legs together. He felt the G-force pressing his faceplate against his face, his nose squashed painfully against the plastiglass. The speck grew larger.

More floating rocks. Jon used his jump pack to steer clear of them; the person below him wasn't as lucky, falling as they were, uncoordinated, bouncing off a large rock and continuing to fall. He tried his comms. Nothing but static. "Sara? Sara!"

A hiss.

"Jon?"

"Sara, I'm right above you. Listen! Arms and legs out wide, now!"

"Jon, I'm fallin –"

"I got you, okay, Sara? Listen. Spread yourself out! I'll come and get you!"

"My jump pack's not working, Jon!"

Jon cursed. He used his jump pack to boost towards Sara, who had, at least, listened to what he said, her arms and legs out wide. He reached out, managing to grab a hold of Sara's rig, the back of her chestpiece. There was only one way the both of them could survive this, and he had to act fast – the gray mountainside was growing ever-larger, his altimeter, disconnected from any system, simply said ERROR.

He tightened his grip on her rig, then flipped her hard. Sara screamed as her perspective changed. Now she was staring up at Jon, her back to the ground. He closed the distance, Sara grabbing at his arms, his chestpiece, anything to gain a handhold. She ended up wrapping her arms around him in a bear hug, her legs around his waist.

He bumped helmets with her. "Sara. Sara!"

She looked at him. Blue eyes, large and afraid.

He smiled, to ease her apprehension. "You're doing great. Trust me, okay?"

Her muscles began to loosen, her grip on him less vicelike. She nodded, hesitantly.

"Right. My jump pack's working. So I need you to hang on, really tight, to me. I'll get us safely to the ground. Okay?"

"O… okay, Jon."

"Right," said Jon, looking down. "Hang on."

He maneuvered them upright, then fired his jump pack.


	4. Doubts

_Alec Ryder set the datapad down on his desk, leaning back in his chair. "Is that all, Lexi?"_

 _Lexi T'Perro hesitated. Although they'd been acquainted for only several months, Alec had come to trust her on her keen instinct on shortlisting Pathfinder team candidates for his perusal; she was brutally honest and straightforward, qualities that may not exactly garner the appreciation of her patients at the bedside, but yielded promising candidates as far as he could tell. After all, she seconded his opinion of one Liam Kosta, former police officer, currently with Heavy Urban Search, Terrain-1._

 _He had just gone through the latest batch of personnel records; unfortunately, none of them were up to the task, in the doctor's own words. Meaning, they did not have the appropriate mentality to be a member of the team. A shame, that; many of them had looked so promising, with skill sets and experience that would be invaluable for exploration and discovery._

 _For her to hesitate now was uncharacteristic of her. Alec could not recall a situation where Lexi had ever had doubts about something._

 _She reached for the datapad. "May I, Alec?"_

 _He grunted, wiping a hand across his face. He still had his doubts about the Initiative: Jien Garson he could trust, since he knew her from his pre-N7 days, until she became a recluse on some quiet corner of Earth while he was the Alliance military attaché to the Citadel. She had her eccentricities, yes, but she had vision, one that he could marvel at, despite all that he'd seen, he'd been through._

 _What worried him was just who the 'benefactor' was. While the mysterious party had pointed him towards Garson, resulting in his recruitment into the Initiative as Pathfinder, the fact that even his Intelligence contacts in the Alliance couldn't get a definitive ID on the benefactor was troubling news. Garson herself had expressed her doubts as well, but she was desperate to see the project through; she went all in, and almost went broke as a result._

 _Lexi scooped up the datapad, summoning a profile from the in-house secure network, handing it to him. Alec cleared his head, studying the profile. The attached holo showed a young male, clad in the black-and-maroon of the Alliance Engineering Corps, the Alliance logo gleaming on his left breast. It was hard to determine his heritage based on his features; thanks to the prevalence of interracial marriages in the last hundred years or so, distinct racial features were hard to come by. Short black hair, neatly trimmed, sat atop a face with a look that Alec was all too familiar with – eyes with a thousand-yard stare, lips pressed together into a thin line. No one who sat down to take a personnel holo would ever pose in that way._

 _This was a man who had seen the horrors of war, or worse._

 _"Jonathan Chang Walker," recited Lexi from memory, looking at Alec. "Grew up on Earth, according to his own account, enlisted in the Alliance military in 2179. Passed through AIT and was assigned to the AEC in 2180 due to exceptional technical abilities. He volunteered to crew Alliance Geological Service survey teams in the Verge, helping to build security and monitoring outposts for two years. Then, 2183 when –"_

 _"Akuze happened," interjected Alec, his face darkening as he recalled the much-publicized incident, barely a month ago._

 _"Yes. The survivor, it's him, Walker. Alec, I believe that you'll find his achievements at such a young age makes him a desirable choice for the team, but I'm concerned with his psych profile. I reached out for an interview with him but he refused. There's also the matter of his pre-Alliance records – I found none, Alec. He was a complete blank before 2179."_

 _Alec swiped through the attached files on Walker, his eyebrows rising slowly with each page he looked through. Multiple commendations. A citation from a chief engineer. A personal recommendation from Alliance R &D._

 _"Hm. Impressive. Where is he now?"_

 _Lexi brought up her omnitool. "He was last seen on the Citadel, but he hasn't checked into any Alliance facilities. Maybe he's trying to keep a low profile."_

 _Alec stood, transferring the engineer's profile to his omnitool. "I'll deal with it, Lexi. Get your questions ready. Sam?"_

"Yes, Pathfinder."

 _"Track down my kids. Tell them their old man needs to talk – it's urgent."_

"Right away."

 _"I need to be at the Citadel anyway," he answered Lexi's unasked question. "Need to meet Garson. Might as well."_

 _She noted the deepening of the crow's feet around his eyes – something was bothering Alec Ryder, one of the most level-headed men she'd ever met. But she kept that thought to herself, stepping aside as Alec swept past her._

 _"Of course, Alec. Good hunting."_


	5. Planetside

CRACK.

The tumble down the side of the mountain had been less than gentle, to put it mildly. Sara Ryder lay there, limbs splayed, dazed, her vision swimming in and out of focus as she tried to piece together what just happened. The past few minutes were nothing but a blur, and her brain just refused to work right now, only one thought pounding incessantly at her consciousness like a hammer to a gong.

Helmet. Helmet. HELMET.

The hiss of escaping air snapped her out of it. She blinked, the world coming back into focus, as did the spider web of a crack directly above her right eye. She inhaled – her throat seized up almost immediately.

 _Toxins_ , her brain told her. Quiet beeping in her ear, a suit breach warning.

Adrenaline flooded her system as soon as she realized she couldn't breathe. Back in training, Dad used to put her and Scott into mock-dangerous situations, to prepare them for the real thing; suit breaches were one of them. She'd pointed out how the wide glass faceplate of the basic Initiative helmets seem to be an accident waiting to happen – her father had dismissed her statement.

Well, what do you know?

"Shit," Sara cursed. She held her breath, bringing up her omnitool. The gesture sent violent streaks of pain through her arms, but she gritted her teeth. Pain was the least of her troubles, now. She accessed the omnigel function, setting it to a thin spray, then directed it over the crack. She panned the spray back and forth, the spider web disappearing slowly as the gel wormed its way through the crack, sealing it.

The beeping in her ear stopped, replaced by a single two-tone alert: no more suit breaches were detected. _That's odd_ , she thought, releasing her breath explosively, her lungs burning. Shouldn't S.A.M. be the one in her head telling her what's going on, instead of her suit's onboard computers?

Sara gave it a few minutes, breathing deeply, her arms at her sides, before she pushed herself up. Her senses seemed to be sharper than she'd ever experienced before – her vision was clearer, her hearing more acute. She could feel the underarmor's fabric against her skin, the beads of sweat that formed along the edge of her cap, sliding down her forehead. Her breathing seemed loud to her in the confines of the repaired helmet. If she closed her eyes, she swore she could hear her own heartbeat.

 _I'm alive_ , she realized. _I fell from a shuttle from God-knows how high, and I'm alive._

Her thoughts started coming back to her. Walker, the engineer. Jonathan. He grabbed her midair, tried to use his jump pack to counter gravity, to soften the fall, after hers failed. He could have simply ignored her and tried to land on his own, but he didn't. He saved her life.

But… where was he?

Or more importantly, now that her surroundings registered, where was _she_?

Sara got to her feet.

She was on a rocky outcrop, the blue sky above almost similar to Earth's – if not for the thick clouds scudding rapidly across it, electric-blue lightning erupting from them at a rate that was unbelievable, nearly constant. In the distance, several huge rock formations blotted out the sky, bobbing gently, smaller rocks drifting serenely next to them like satellites around a planet. Behind her was a sheer cliff face, the side of the mountain. It looked impossible to climb.

Sara counted at least five lightning strikes she could see from the moment she got up, some close by, some further away. _In less than ten seconds_ , she marveled. And the thunder she was expecting after each strike was strangely absent – instead, a near-instantaneous _crack_ each time.

In front of her, what appeared to be a dried-up bush, leaves missing, poked its way out between cracks in the solid rock. It was entirely white in color, and appeared to be brittle. Next to it grew… Sara wasn't sure what _those_ were. They were like mushrooms, sprouting up in clumps, but they didn't have caps. The stalks seemed to curl in on themselves to form a knob, or something swirly-looking; Sara didn't know how to describe them. The things were yellow, and they glowed slightly.

She held her side - may be a broken rib, from the rock she'd caromed off of before Jonathan caught her. The pain was dull, throbbing in time to her heartbeat. She tried moving about, taking a few steps. The pain seemed to stay constant. It'd keep.

Sara brought up her omnitool. All frequencies were down, even S.A.M.'s. She tried them all anyway. "This is Ryder, come in. Hyperion? Sam? Anyone there?"

Nothing. Dead air on all channels.

She turned a full circle. She was all alone.

Fear began to creep into her heart, an icy feeling, unpleasant. She was all alone on an alien planet, with no idea if anyone else survived the shuttle crash. All she had on her was – she checked her gear – a pistol, two thermal clips, one grenade. And no S.A.M. to assist her. Her jump pack was shot, her helmet damaged. And somehow, she still breathed.

 _Focus, Ryder! You survived. Surely the others would have, too._

Sara Ryder took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Closed her eyes for a moment. A memory, from one of her first training sessions for the Initiative came to mind, clear as the day she experienced it:

" _Remember, Sara," said Dad, a hand on her shoulder. "When your back's against the wall, if you can't run from it, use it."_

When she reopened them, they blazed with a fierce determination. She was alive. Someone was still out there, and she will find them. _Time to move_.

* * *

The stump jutted out the side of the cliff. Three minutes ago, it was a complete bush, twigs swaying in the mild breeze. That was, until the alien fell out of the sky, arms flailing, jump pack misfiring, and grabbed onto the first thing it could reach, ripping the delicate branches off the trunk.

Now it dangled precariously over a drop, breathing hard, hoping that the stump will hold.

Jonathan Chang Walker glanced down – bad idea. He couldn't see how far down the ground was, a mist blanketing everything. It just made his current situation all the more perilous. His jump pack cut out right as they were about to land on the side of the mountain, and they'd begun tumbling, Sara wrenched away from him. He'd tucked and rolled, right up to the point where his body realized there was a distinct lack of solid ground beneath it, and he began to fall.

Instinct saved him. He grabbed at the closest handhold he could find – this bush.

The stump shifted slightly. _Shit_. Right now, he needed to climb. Think later.

His left hand crabbed along the cliff's surface, until he found a promising handhold. He applied pressure to it – it held. He moved his feet, too, finding footholds as well, testing them, making sure each could safely hold his body weight. He released the stump – it bowed, shedding dried bark. A large rock jutted from the surface directly above it. Jon reached for it, getting his fingers around it.

He pulled himself up.

It took him maybe twenty minutes, body pressed against the cliff face and no more glances downwards, to finally close his hands around the edge of the cliff. With one last pull, he dragged himself over the edge, plopping himself down, breathing heavily, muscles aching.

"Terra firma," Jon muttered to himself.

Firm ground. In another galaxy.

The sky overhead was blue, like an old-Earth postcard. Save for the really fast-moving clouds and the floating rocks, Jonathan could feel as though he was back on Earth. The first time he saw the sky proper, he was on a shuttle, heading for an Alliance recruitment center. All his life up till he joined the Alliance, where he was from, the smog blotted out the sky, painting everything in an orange glow. To see it for what it really was…

He took one last breath, then hopped to his feet. _Enough reminiscing_. He was currently on an alien planet, two million lightyears from the Milky Way. He just fell out a shuttle and survived the freefall. Sara should be somewhere in the vicinity.

 _Or her dead body_ , his inner voice whispered. He ignored it.

Comms were down. Unsurprisingly. He did a quick check of his equipment. Other than his jump pack, which read as damaged on his omnitool, thanks to the extended burn he initiated to slow their descent, all his other equipment miraculously survived.

Jon allowed himself a smile. He had his gear. He could survive this. As he did Akuze.

He nearly jumped as lightning struck a spot barely five meters to his right, singeing the alien grass there, his Mattock springing into his arms like clockwork, the sharp _crack_ unexpected. He scanned the sky. More lightning, this time farther off in the distance, but the _crack_ still loud, almost like a gunshot.

First things first: get a move on, find shelter. Before he became barbecue, barely two hours out of cryo. That would be unfortunate, not to mention ironic. Survive a six-hundred-year trip, only to be killed by a force of nature. He wondered what Dr. Lexi would think of that.

He began moving, Mattock tight across his chest.

* * *

Lieutenant Cora Harper had been training under Pathfinder Alec Ryder for a little over a year, and had never once seen the man lose his cool over anything. Things don't go to plan, he just calmly worked his way around it, be it a weapons malfunction in the field or an abrupt change of fortune at the conference table. She liked to think that she knew the man, the legend, better than anybody else. She knew almost everything he did. She knew his combat patterns, his skills, as intimately as she studied Huntress Theris' teachings, back when she was with Talein's Daughters. She knew him to be a tough son-of-a-bitch, a demanding father figure, but ultimately a well-meaning one. The demanding part, she witnessed first-hand, when he was training his own children. They were young, full of fire and energy – and themselves – and had bridled when he criticized them after a seemingly-perfect combat run, or when they failed to notice a tiny detail while out on different planets, to practice assessing them for viability.

All of which made what was going on now all the more hard to take, even for the Pathfinder.

Shuttle Two was down: there was no doubt about it. She had seen it take a direct hit from a bolt of lightning, and the last she had eyes on it was ten minutes ago, when it descended into the gloom below, trailing smoke and fire. Comms were lost after the strike, the onboard systems possibly fried. The Pathfinder had attempted to comm the shuttle or anyone on board for a full ten minutes now, while the pilot steered the shuttle to the drop-off point, wisely staying silent after each transmission was answered by static.

The Pathfinder dropped his face into a hand, the gesture never seen before by anyone in the shuttle. For a moment, Harper felt a pang of sympathy for the man; Scott Ryder was already in a coma, of which he would emerge from unharmed, as the doctor had assured, but a father worries, right? And now Sara Ryder was potentially K.I.A. All of this after he lost his wife, Ellen, to some eezo-related disease back in the Milky Way.

Right now, the head of the Ryder family was all alone.

"Sir?"

He looked up, his jaw set with a grimness Harper had seen before on the faces of those who had lost loved ones on the battlefield, but for the sake of the mission kept going on. She knew what he was about to say. He would not allow anything to jeopardize the mission; _the mission comes first_ , as he would remind her time after time in training. Mourning would come later. But for now –

His eyes were hard.

"Take us down."

* * *

"Some of these things look like… tentacles?" queried Sara aloud for her log, scanning the odd, yellow, glowing plant with her omnitool. If she were connected, S.A.M. would have provided on-the-spot analysis. Now, disconnected, the best she could do was collect data via her logs and have them analysed later. The familiarity of the actions took her mind off her current situation; back when she was traveling with Mateus Silva's team, her squad did almost the same thing, using handheld scanners provided by the team to scan newly-unearthed artifacts, beaming the data back to their mobile outpost. No S.A.M. back then; everything they did took long, tedious hours; backbreaking work, sure, but her biotics helped where elbow grease failed. And it was all worth it, for all the knowledge of the Protheans she was able to glean from the team. They were such an advanced race, the artifacts they left behind so complex even Silva was stumped, a veteran of numerous archaeological digs…

Her omnitool told her the plant – thing? – was possibly indeed a plant. No leaves, so they were inefficient photosynthetically. How'd they survive, then? High variance in cellular mutation; that one was possible, given their appearance. The last bit of data was a little unsettling: the plant was possibly _carnivorous_.

She backed away slowly from the clumps of innocent-looking yellow knobs, despite their lack of teeth and chomping jaws. Just to be safe.

"They are all over the place, but clustered around rocks," commented Sara, looking around. "Don't see any in open ground."

She looked up. The lightning appeared to be standard for this planet; she'd passed several blackened spots on the ground, odd electromagnetic energies or some other phenomena going on causing small clumps of gravel to rise and hover over the spots right before the next lightning bolt struck the exact same spot. It was how she managed to avoid being hit by one – so far. She didn't know if the old adage of being the tallest thing around applied here.

At least gravity worked the way she was used to. That was one thing she was grateful for. This planet was so damned _alien_. If only Dad were here…

Sara wondered for a moment. Would he be on his way to her rough location, to look for her and the others from Shuttle Two? What was Dad thinking right now? Would he even care if she were dead or alive? She smiled bitterly at the last one; he'd always been distant, not seeming to give a damn about his children; his track record of being absent for large parts of hers and Scott's lives spoke for itself. She wasn't even sure why he recruited them for the Initiative. They were green, far greener than any of the other members Dad handpicked for the Pathfinder team. Maybe he was feeling guilty, after Mom died? Trying to make up for lost time? If so, the way he was going about it was odd.

But then again, maybe that's because he had never spent time with them, didn't know anything about what was going on in their lives, so the few gatherings the Ryder family had were full of awkward silences and strained discussions about what he knew best - their military careers. While she had her doubts at times, Sara knew her father was trying his best, and tried her best to accommodate him. Scott was a little less understanding, though, pig-headed as he was. Staring at a mass relay, without ever going to the other side, did things to people.

She sighed. She had been the lucky one, going all around the Milky Way. Poor Scotty.

An alert popped up on her faceplate. Sara stared at the blinking icon, uncomprehending, her mind still on her family. It took her a few moments to recognize the icon.

A comm channel was open! She blink-accessed it, connecting to the channel.

"Err… ahem," she cleared her throat. Tentatively, not willing to believe it, she spoke. "Hello? Sara Ryder here. Is anyone out there?"

* * *

Jon cheeked his Mattock, eye to scope. While most Alliance soldiers preferred HUD-weapon syncing, he was partial to the old-school methods of gunfighting. Which was why he chose to don an N7-inspired Initiative personnel helmet instead of the standard explorer's helmet – the helmet he currently wore allowed him to bring the scope up to his eye, whereas he can't do the same with the explorer's helmet thanks to the domed faceplate.

The path he'd taken led to a clearing ahead, some hundred meters away. Solid walls of rock on all sides, except the way he'd just came through. Shuttle Two's front half was lodged firmly at the base of the rock wall ahead, the wreckage burning. Contents from the shuttle – supply crates of omnigel and crafting materials, ammunition blocks and thermal clips – lay scattered all around the crash site.

Everything seemed normal – as normal as a shuttle crash could be – except for the humanoid form backlit by the flames.

Jon manually adjusted the zoom on his scope. What he saw was definitely not human. Nor any alien from the Milky Way he knew.

The alien moved slowly, almost casually, head turning about, as if scanning for something, each step deliberate. In its arms was some sort of weapon – a rifle, Jon assumed, judging by the length and the way the alien held it, remarkably similar to how he himself held his Mattock, low across the chest. It came up to a crate, looked at it curiously, then kicked it aside, interest lost immediately. From its silhouette alone, the alien had a buffed-up appearance, muscles bulging. Then, as it passed by a piece of flaming wreckage, the fire lit it up from the side. No, not muscles – looked more like bone, or bone armor? Whitish, merging into the torso piece, black, or a dark gray, Jon couldn't tell. Its head was a rough wedge shape, eyes glinting as it looked about, the same bone that covered its arms extending up to its head like a helmet. Its legs were oddly bent, reminding him of quarians' legs. Its weapon wasn't straight-edged like his Mattock. Plenty of curves. Organic?

A sharp scream of pain rose above the crackling of the flames. Jon remembered Kirkland trying to regain control of the shuttle after the lightning strike. It could be him. Could be Fisher, or Greer, too.

But this alien, it _looked_ hostile. Maybe. It had a weapon, after all. Or it may be a farming tool. Or…

 _Ryder steepled his fingers, looking across the desk at Jon. "So, you're ready to take lives, if that's what it takes, Walker?"_

" _If it comes to that, sir. Though I believe the natives may object."_

The thought nagged at him. They, the humans, were the aliens here. These aliens, they may be natives of this place. They had every right to capture or kill what appeared to be hostile aliens to them, defending their ground, so to speak. Before, it was purely academic, a what-if scenario discussed by Dr. Lexi and Ryder. They didn't know if anyone from the Initiative would be encountering any sort of life form in Andromeda. They didn't expect to actually meet an alien. It was one thing to talk about it, it was another to actually be able to aim down his sights and pull the trigger on a native species.

Not that he had a problem with killing. He had no qualms putting a round into a hostile's head from a distance. He learned from a young age it was a kill-or-be-killed world, before he joined the Alliance. The problem he had now was this:

Should he break first-contact protocol, if he found that the aliens were causing harm to someone from the shuttle?

He advanced slowly, moving silently from rock to rock. Plenty of them to take cover behind. Maybe a closer-up view of what's going on would help him in making a decision.

There were two of them. The one he spotted was patrolling the area, looking around. The other was… well, he didn't know exactly what it was doing, bent over like that, but he spotted camo-patterned heavy Initiative armor. Only Fisher was wearing heavy armor on their shuttle.

The alien was doing something to Fisher; another cry with a right-angle of pain reached Jon's ears, even through the helmet.

That did it for him: _fuck first-contact protocol_. The aliens were hurting people. His people. Though he did not know Fisher for long, just as he didn't know Sara Ryder for long either, he felt that he should –

He rested the Mattock on a rock, placing his knee on the ground, gravel crunching under the armor piece there. Scoped the patrolling alien, placing its head squarely in the crosshairs. The two aliens haven't seen him yet.

That was about to change.

Jon's eyes were cold. He pulled the trigger.

* * *

Staff Sergeant David Fisher had known all sorts of pain during his time with the Alliance marines; he'd been shot multiple times, twice having to take leave to recover from his wounds; had a slipped disc once – that one was a bitch – which almost ended his career; got hit by burning shrapnel on Torfan, during the Blitz…

He was surprised that he was still serving, in spite of all he'd been through. But now, as the alien slowly applied pressure to his thigh with its foot, he wished he had –

He screamed as the pain lanced its way through his whole leg.

The crash was textbook; he'd participated in enough drills to know. Kirkland did a good job, bringing them down with only half the shuttle intact like that. He's probably dead; when Fisher awoke, Kirkland was gone. Greer's corpse was charring slowly in the cockpit, slumped over the controls, the fire intense.

He had to get out of there, tried to move, only to have his leg give out from under him, the pain blindsiding him, his mind going blank. After giving it a few moments, he used a shotgun lying nearby as a crutch, propping himself up, moving slowly on his good leg, using the wall of the shuttle, guiding himself along, till he was looking up at an alien sky.

It was too much effort, though. He must have blacked out again, because the next thing he knew, this bastard of an alien was looking down at him. It spoke to him in a language he did not understand, but from its tone, it was very, very unfriendly.

Then it began torturing him.

It must have seen how his leg hampered him, and maliciously decided to do something about it. Fisher tried to recall a technique to resist interrogation he learned back in Basic: find spider-holes in his mind, and crawl into them. It worked – partly. The pain was so intense, his suit's painkiller stores were depleted, last he checked.

The alien was smart enough to determine the shotgun next to him was a weapon, tossing it aside, too far for him to reach. And he was in too much pain to even punch the damn bastard in its face. Why didn't it kill him already, and be done with it?

A sharp crack. Fisher looked up in surprise, recognizing the sound – a gun being fired. An honest-to-God mass accelerator weapon. A friendly!

The alien above him rose, swinging around to see where the sound came from. It picked up its own weapon – some sort of rifle, and aimed it at a point beyond his field of vision. It shouted in its deep, guttural voice.

" **Niad shurid!** "

Fisher blinked tears out of his eyes, then in disbelief as the alien fell backwards, a gout of green blood spouting out the back of its head, bouncing off the shuttle. The report of the shot echoed off the wall of rock. Only one shot. If it were him, he would be pumping the alien full of holes.

Quiet once more, the crackling of flames loud. "Over here!" Fisher called out, once he'd gathered enough breath to do so.

Initiative armor coming towards him. He recognized the helmet – the engineer, the one who rode in the cargo bay with him. He scanned the area with his Mattock, moving slowly. He knelt next to Fisher before lowering his weapon, tilting his helmet Fisher's way.

"You alright?" His voice was distorted through the helmet's filters.

Fisher gritted his teeth. "Not really. Think I broke my leg. Those fucks were giving me a taste of hell before you came. So much for making peace with the locals." He swallowed. "Thanks for jumping in."

The engineer set his weapon down, rummaging through a crate. Fisher had seen his share of modified weapons, but damn if the engineer's Mattock wasn't a sweet piece of hardware. It was the older model, not the M-96, but shared the same shape, more or less, with fewer frills. Modified to accept thermal clips – not an easy job, converting those heat sink models. The scope was seriously sexy, definitely not Alliance-approved. Fisher wondered where the engineer got it from.

The engineer held up a vial of pale-blue fluid. He ran a hand along Fisher's right arm, finding the emergency medical port on his right forearm.

"Painkillers. Should last till extraction," he explained, pressing the vial into the port. A soft hiss as the vial emptied. The pain disappeared almost immediately; Fisher breathed a sigh of relief. "Appreciate it. Sorry I can't do much with this bum leg."

The engineer got up, raising his weapon. Nodded at him in understanding. "Here."

The shotgun landed next to Fisher. Two thermal clips joined it, liquid coolant glowing slightly in the semidarkness.

"Where are the others?" queried the engineer, scanning the area.

Fisher gestured towards the shuttle's front. "Greer's in there. He's dead. Kirkland, I'm not so sure. The pain, you understand. Maybe he went looking for help."

"I'll look for him."

* * *

"Harper, secure the perimeter. I'm going to scout around."

"Aye, sir."

Alec Ryder took off at a brisk jog, none the worse for wear. Their shuttle had been hit by a bolt of lightning, same as Shuttle Two, but the damage was minimal, merely shorting out some non-critical systems. But the pilot was doing a full systems check, just in case. The landing was a little rough, but no one was injured, so no complaints there.

She raised supply crates from the shuttle with her biotics, setting them in a rough circle around the shuttle as makeshift cover. _Cover from what_ , she wondered. Hostile aliens?

A crackle over the comm channel.

" _Hello? Sara – krrrrch – anyone out there?_ "

Scratchy, distorted, but most definitely Sara Ryder. Harper nearly dropped a crate in her surprise. "Hayes, got that?"

"Yeah. I'll see what I can do; this darned weather's wreaking havoc on our comms."

Hayes plugged the comm system into a backup power bank – the main took the brunt of the lightning strike. They dumped it before they landed, the entire thing sparking, some distance away. Lucky for them, it didn't explode. She brought up her omnitool, tweaking comm settings.

"Ryder? Sara Ryder? If you can hear this, tune in to emergency frequency one-five-four-point-three. Got that? Frequency one-five-four-point-three." Hayes set the announcement on a loop, and began trying to boost its signal. A feat, considering the walls of rock around them.

Harper retrieved her shotgun from the interior of the shuttle, and began scanning her sector. That strange superstructure that dominated the sky directly ahead unnerved her. There, the sky was dark, almost black, and it roiled with luminescent energies, swirling around the superstructure. Straight edges. Same design as the alien architecture they saw on the way in. Parts of it glowed with an unnatural blue light that sent an unpleasant tingle up Harper's spine. For some reason she was reminded of asari temples, though this _thing_ was probably not as welcoming.

The Pathfinder had headed off in that direction. "Sam, anything you can tell me about that?"

" _Unknown. Pathfinder Ryder states that it may have something to do with the climate. He is currently looking for evidence to confirm his suspicions_."

* * *

"Damn it."

Sara had gotten a slight positive return on her comms, only for it to fade out once more. But it gave her hope. Shuttle One was close by somewhere – all she needed to do was find it.

She looked up as she felt an invisible _something_ press against her, like a wave. That was the third one she'd felt. Maybe it had something to do with that tower she saw, the sky around it all sorts of messed-up. It's as though a whirlpool of energies were centered around the tower, and she noticed that she could feel the wave, the pulse, whatever it was, when the energies rose from the tower into the tempest in the sky. There was a regularity to the pulses – she timed them, each about twenty minutes apart.

Maybe it had something to do with the lightning, too.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Too many variables right now, and no answers. But if Shuttle One was somewhere nearby, she could link up with them. Knowing Dad, he would already have five or six theories about the whole thing. He may even have already cracked the secrets of the place wide open.

Sara picked up the pace, clambering over yet another boulder.


	6. Regroup

Jon lowered his weapon. Blinked.

The ground beneath his feet was glowing. Or, to be more precise, he just discovered that he had been walking on a perfectly smooth segment of ground, with aqua lines that glowed from time to time. He cast a glance behind him; the smooth rock blended with dirt and growths of alien grass seamlessly as far back as he could see. He knelt and placed his palm on the smooth rock, activating his palm-mounted scanner.

Data spilled across his vision. Unknown material, but harder than diamond. The glowing lines, as best as his hardware could determine, was some sort of bioluminescence, but Jon doubted that; he had a feeling the smooth rock under his feet was the same sort of material the alien structures they saw on their way in was made of. Maybe he was approaching one of these structures? Years of neglect causing nature to reclaim these places?

The rocky ravine gave way to a clearing five minutes later, a blind turn, the walls of the ravine falling away suddenly. Jon found himself staring at an entire wall of the smooth rock, alien geometries too sophisticated for him to describe. It lay far off in the distance, hundreds of meters, best guess. Here, instead of aqua, the glow was a bright blue, suffusing the entire clearing. The wall stretched as far up as the eye could see, protrusions jutting out at regular intervals, all smooth rock, angular, sharp, edges everywhere.

Whoever built these was definitely _not_ a fan of curves.

More of the smooth-rock structures protruded from the ground, with varying heights and sizes. It was a bizarre experience for Jon, having so many straight lines and edges in his vision. It reminded him that he was, first and foremost, on an alien world.

Movement up ahead. Experience and training lending fluidity to his moves, Jon took cover behind one of the smooth rock projections, this one roughly waist-height. He cautiously poked his Mattock around the edge of the projection, glancing through the scope.

* * *

 _The atmospheric generator!_

Sara's spirits lifted. The device had half-fallen out of its storage container, but the red light at the peak of the telescoping rod was lit, indicating it was active. Sara scanned the device. It was fully functional, and was already gathering data.

"Found the atmospheric generator. It's still working," she commented for the log, brushing some dirt off the generator's casing. "No sign of industrial pollutants, or radioactive isotopes. Air's still unbreathable, though. So… what exactly killed this place?"

She got onto her feet, marking the generator's position. Maybe later, when they'd regrouped, they could come back to set the generator up properly. Sara had no idea how to maximize the generator's efficiency; technical things like that were beyond her.

Sara's hand shot to her hip, fingers closing around her pistol. She just heard something, and it definitely wasn't background noise. It sounded like an animal, a snarl? A shriek? She couldn't tell. But it made the hairs on the back of neck stand up. She stayed still, moving only her eyes. It came from somewhere ahead of her, she was sure of it. The only movement she saw was the dancing of flames, burning shuttle debris. _Wait. Did that plant just move?_

A shimmering, then it was gone. The plant stayed where it was.

Sara had heard of cloaking before, though she'd never seen one in use. Dad used to tell them tales of single infiltrators, armed with nothing but a Mantis sniper rifle and a cloaking device, taking out an entire base of hostiles, not one of them ever knowing the infiltrator was there. The stuff of legends, of myth, N7- or STG-grade. She'd asked if Dad ever used one. He simply smiled a mysterious smile and changed the subject.

Was she in the sights of a cloaked enemy?

Sara drew her weapon, priming it. She moved slowly, eyes front, weapon sweeping left to right, following her field of vision. She felt completely naked, out here in the open. But she was confident in her ability to nail anything that came her way.

Her foot bumped into something hard. She glanced down. A loose rock, tumbling away from –

With a roar, the creature leapt right at her, decloaking as it soared through the air. Sara had a split-second view of a hideous mouth, full of rows of teeth the length of her hand, before it was upon her. Its weight threw the both of them to the ground, knocking the wind out of her.

She still had a grip on her pistol, but that arm was trapped, caught between one of the creature's legs and the ground. She only had her left arm free, and on instinct, she punched the creature where its – nose? snout? – would be with the limited reach she had. Her fist bounced off the creature's carapace, a pathetic excuse of a punch.

The creature's wedge-shaped head drew back, as if in surprise at Sara's feeble attempt at retaliation. It's hard to say if it was surprised or not, since it seemed to lack eyes. It howled into the wind, spines rising on its neck, like a peacock's plumage, more scary than spectacular. Sara tried to wriggle free, but the creature's weight kept her pinned down. It was roughly the size of a mastiff, but had the musculature of a mastiff on steroids.

Gnashing teeth. Sara twisted to her left as the creature snapped at her, trying to bite her head off. Twisted to the right, as it tried to bite her again. She could keep doing this, but at some point the creature was going to win. She grimaced as the creature's drool, a sickly dark green, splashed across her faceplate.

The creature snapped again. She couldn't use her biotics; to throw someone, she needed to draw her arm back and palm-punch her target, the gesture required to sync her implants to generate the mass effect fields. Her right arm was trapped, she didn't have the reach with her left to pull that biotic trick off. She had only one option left, and that was a dicey one. It could work – or she could die. Either way, she only had one shot.

Sara closed her eyes and punched – as best as she could. And triggered her omnitool.

Omnitool shimmering as it worked, Sara's fist arced into the creature's mouth. Green blood erupted from the creature's skull, along with a glowing yellow omniblade. Sara could feel the blade grinding against bone. This was it. If the blade did not kill this thing, she _will_ die. Omniblades were flash-forged, but to create another within seconds was impossible, the minifabricator having a cooldown timer.

The creature slumped to the side, freeing Sara's trapped arm. The omniblade snapped off of the omnitool, allowing Sara to kick her way free of the creature's weight, gritting her teeth.

She sprang to her feet, pistol aimed squarely at the creature. It did not move, dark green blood pouring from the wound Sara inflicted, the omniblade losing coherence, finally disappearing with a hiss. She tentatively kicked at one of its legs. Nothing. It was dead.

Sara Ryder released a pent-up breath she did not realize she was holding. She realized her pistol hand was shaking, her aim all over the place – the shot of adrenaline she got fighting the creature now wearing off. She sank to her knees, dropping the gun, left hand gripping her right, to stop the shakes. Didn't work: now, she was shaking all over, her vision blurry from tears. Her breaths came in gasps.

It took her a few minutes to get a grip on herself, the shakes eventually stopping, before Sara got back on her feet. She resolved to keep her weapon out and ready to fire, now that she knew these creatures were out there. Alien creatures. And they were carnivorous.

Before she continued on her way, she scanned the creature, the sight of its teeth causing the bile to rise in her throat. Unsteady steps away from the creature, Sara kept her eyes forward, counting steps as she went. Only as she looked back she counted fifty and realized the creature was already out of sight did she relax her tensed muscles. But only a little.

There could be more out there. Do they hunt in packs? Are they native creatures of this place? Most importantly – could she detect them coming? The way it was cloaked, invisible until it was right on top of her, was probably why she was unnerved by the creature. They were nothing like the creatures she knew from the Milky Way.

" **Lutod nyro!** "

Sara almost dropped her weapon at the sound.

* * *

 _Shit._

Kirkland was kneeling, hands laced behind his head, looking up at another of those damned aliens. Another was behind him, cradling its weapon, similar to the ones Jon saw earlier.

" _Please, I surrender!_ "

Jon maneuvered himself into a firing position, steadying his aim. Kirkland was at the aliens' mercy, like Fisher was. Jon wasn't about to let them get their satisfaction this –

A shot. Kirkland choked, keeled over, motionless.

The alien shot him. _In cold blood_.

A fury Jon had never known rose within him, threatening to override his discipline, to go in guns blazing, fuck the consequences. Instead, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes.

Calm. Inhale. Exhale.

Opened his eyes. Sighted.

Pulled the trigger.

His third kill of the day. The second alien immediately scrambled for cover, _smart fellow_! Jon knew where it was. His Mattock could easily reach out and touch the fucker in the head even at this distance. That alien was dead, whether it liked it or not.

So focused on the alien, Jon was startled when small-arms fire erupted ahead of him. One-two-three shots. The alien rose, firing at someone else off to Jon's right, distracted.

And it fell as a sliver of metal punched through its bony head, blood spattering the smooth-rock formation behind it. Jon eased his finger off the trigger.

Those shots sounded like the report of an Alliance pistol. Pathfinder team members from Shuttle One? Sara?

He moved, gun up and scanning.

* * *

It was Kirkland.

Sara touched the man's faceplate, his eyes frozen, sightless, staring up at the alien sky. While she didn't know Kirkland that well, he was part of the Pathfinder team, and a fellow soldier. She bowed her head, feeling the grief flow through her.

Her throat tightened as her gaze moved down to the gaping red hole in his chest, and she quickly averted her gaze, suddenly feeling sick. It seemed like the alien's weapon, whatever it was, had simply punched a hole right through Kirkland's chest, armor and all. She'd never seen a wound like that before; even mass accelerator rounds did far less damage than this.

She swallowed a few times, trying to get the gory image out of her mind.

At least she killed the alien who killed Kirkland. She'd crept up on them carefully after hearing one of them shouting, voice deep, guttural, even through her helmet. Her shots seemed to catch the second one off-guard, hammering it to the rock even as the sniper blew its head clean off.

 _Speaking of which –_

She leveled her pistol at the form coming slowly her way. Initiative armor, male. The helmet looked oddly familiar.

"Jon?"

Jonathan Walker moved rapidly, closing the distance. He came to a stop next to Sara, looking down at Kirkland's motionless corpse.

"Sara. You alright?" he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Kirkland, he –"

"Nothing we can do for him now. How are you holding up? Injuries?"

"I'm fine. Alive, thanks to you. And no, no injuries."

He offered her his hand, shifting his Mattock to his other. She grasped it, hauling herself to her feet. They looked down at Kirkland for a moment.

"Those aliens… he was trying to surrender. Why kill him?"

"I don't know. But peace isn't going to be an option here. Caught two more of them torturing Fisher. Killed them."

So matter-of-fact. Sara stared at her companion as he went through Kirkland's gear. "Thermal clips. Grenades. We might need these. And here," he reached behind his back, unclipping the Avenger on his back, handing it to her. "Think you need more than just that peashooter."

The way Jonathan patted Kirkland down, seemingly oblivious to the gaping hole in his chest, told Sara enough about his combat experience. He'd seen some _shit_. And the way he pulled items from Kirkland's rig suggested he'd done this before. Many times before.

"What about Kirkland?"

"We'll come back for him, once we find the others," replied Jon. "For now, we need to get moving. Could be more of them coming this way."

Such confidence, the way he handled the situation! Sara felt small and comforted by his presence, both at the same time. She hoped he didn't see her being squeamish at the sight of the bloody hole in Kirkland's body. She held the Avenger closer to her body, feeling safe for the first time since they landed on Habitat 7.

"You've got S.A.M., right? Can he analyze these things?" Jon hooked one of the corpses with the toe of a boot, turning it over.

Sara shook her head. "Got disconnected when the shuttle went down. But…"

She scanned the alien, glad for something to do. The results that popped up on her omnitool were surprising. "Huh."

"What is it?"

"They're DNA-based. And those whitish stuff around their heads and bodies? Some sort of bone armor, I think. But their genetics are all over the map."

Jon shrugged. "Guess life here took a different turn, huh?" He stood, scanning the area with his weapon. "Hope the other team's okay. Otherwise, you and me, we're stranded here."

Sara nodded. "They are. They made planetfall too, in one piece. I'm patched in to their channel, but the signal's weak. We need to get someplace higher."

"Sounds like a plan. Let's get moving."

* * *

"Take a look at this architecture. This really is something."

Sara gazed at the structures in awe, her palm against the smooth rock. This was what she lived for. To see, to touch, to understand.

"Lot of straight lines and edges. Whoever created these must love their geometry."

Sara chuckled at that.

Jon folded his Mattock away, approaching what he thought was a lamp. Or, at least, the alien approximation of a lamp. A small pedestal, with a glowing blue orb floating right above it, with some of the smooth rock orbiting around it in cubes. He held his palm out:

 _Unclassified/unknown material._

 _Age: 300 – 400 years (approximate)._

"Never seen anything like this. At least three to four centuries old," he breathed.

"Hm. The arks left six hundred years ago, right?"

"Six hundred and thirty four, according to Captain Dunn. I guess the long-range scans didn't pick these up. How'd they manage to see the Heleus Cluster, anyway?"

Sara shrugged. "Some sort of mega-telescope? But the problem would be time. Hm. Something to ask Dad about, later. I bet he knows something about it."

A path led away from the clearing, a gentle upward gradient dotted with rocks, smooth-rock and lightning-strike spots. Sara pointed those spots out as they went: "Watch for piles of rising gravel, and stay the hell out of the blast radius."

"Got it."

He pointed at a structure embedded in the rock, lines pulsing bright blue. "I call them smooth-rock. I think the aliens we killed aren't their creators. Too different. This smooth-rock? Razor-edge, lines. Those aliens were more organic, more curves and imperfections."

Sara looked up. She pointed. "Curves and imperfections. Like that?"

To Jon, the building up ahead reminded him of old-Earth luxury homes, as advertised in the dog-eared old-Earth magazines he used to read. It was built into the side of a rocky hill, the entire structure seemingly a single unit, with rounded walls and an indent it its middle, opening up the interior to the external environment, no glass. It was a shade of dark green, the same color as the aliens' weapons. A small ramp led up to the floor immediately under the structure, a loading area of some sort; crates were strewn all about the place, with rounded corners, and the same shade of dark green.

Sara noted the multiple lightning-spots blackening the immediate area. "Woah. Seems like this place took a beating from the storms. Seems deserted." She glanced at Jon. "Wanna check the place out?"

Jon reached for his Mattock. "Wouldn't suggest it. It may be an alien stronghold. But, if you're game, I'll follow you. You're the recon specialist, after all."

Sara bit her lip. While she really wanted to check out the place, Jon had a point. There were only two of them, and she didn't know much about these aliens. For all they knew, the aliens may have some sort of tech that could incapacitate or kill them outright. Their weapons hit hard: Kirkland's death was testament to that. She sighed.

"I'll defer to you on this one."

They kept moving, past the alien structure and up the slope, which now began to curve steeply, forcing them to slow their ascent. Jon felt uneasy; there were more alien crates up here. It felt like they were walking into the aliens' territory. But this was the only way to reach a high enough location for a frequency lock on the channel Sara had.

The ground leveled out, and they stopped for a moment to catch their breath. Jon clambered onto a boulder twice his height, careful to keep his profile as low as possible, surveying the area ahead. He cursed in a language Sara didn't recognize. "Ta ma de."

"What's up?"

"I think they have some sort of mining operation up ahead. Cluster of crates around a cave entrance. Heavy machinery. Generators, I think. And at least six of those aliens with guns around the outside. And we can't get past them without them spotting us."

"So we go through."

"As quickly and as quietly as we can. Take them down fast, and hit them hard. You got any incendiaries on you?"

Sara detached a pack from her belt, inserting it into her Avenger. Ninety rounds total of fiery death. "Sure do."

"I'll see how many I can take down from here. Anyone comes this way, they're yours."

"Got it."

"Ready?"

"Let's do this," said Sara, taking cover behind a large rock.

The bark of Jon's Mattock was muffled by a nearby lightning strike. He watched as one of the aliens crumpled, only another one noticing its comrade had fallen. Jon killed that alien too, lest it alerted the others. Two down. The other four were on the far side, and each were within visual distance of each other. Nuts.

He chose an alien at random, and fired. The remaining three scrambled for cover.

"Heads up. Here they come. Three of them."

Sara rose, weapon at the ready. The three aliens were charging her position, firing as they went, their projectiles striking the rock Sara was taking cover behind. She fired a burst at each of the aliens, her rounds coated with thermite paste, and they _howled_ as they began to burn in addition to the holes torn in them.

Jon quickly pulled off three headshots, putting the aliens out of their misery. "So much for keeping it quiet."

The entire exchange took perhaps a minute, but it felt longer. Sara peeked out from behind her cover; the aliens' projectiles have melted the front of the rock off, rivulets of melted rock pooling in the dust. "Holy shit."

"I think… that's all of them," reported Jon. "Don't see any rushing out of the cave. Lucky for us."

They advanced slowly, approaching the cave entrance. Jon climbed atop another boulder for a better view, confirming that the cave was indeed empty, and there was a blue glow coming from within.

"Smooth-rock tech?" queried Sara as he jumped down.

"Likely."

The cave ran mere meters deep, ending in a large, smooth-rock wall. This one looked a little different, however, not exactly a wall; two right-angle triangles coming together to form a huge triangular door-like structure, almost the size of a hangar door. And the entire thing was laced with bluish lines, glowing brightly, illuminating the entire cave.

Sara gestured to the equipment scattered in front of the door. "They must have been studying this thing."

An odd noise, mechanical. Jon instinctively raised his Mattock. "Heard that?"

The source of the noise seemed to be a human-sized construct lying directly in front of the door, portal, whatever. It was made of the same smooth rock as the structures they'd seen so far.

Sara approached the thing, her Avenger pointed right at it. "Looks like they were trying to tunnel in –"

The construct unfolded itself.

"Watch it, Sara!"

It sprouted a pair of legs, a single red eye, or lens, coming to rest on Sara. It scuttled to the side, making that same odd noise as it went.

"What is it?" exclaimed Sara as she tracked it.

"Uh. Pissed?"

The combined fire from both their weapons brought the thing down quickly. Sara walked over to the twitching, smoking pile of smooth-rock. "Great. So now killer robots too?"

Jon held his hand out, palm-first, at the door. "Yikes. Some serious energy beyond this thing. These aliens were poking around where they shouldn't have."

"Mobile robotic platform. This thing was a sentry, or an observer. Keeping an eye on things. Didn't seem to have weaponry," reported Sara. "And it's about the same age as everything smooth-rock we've seen so far."

"Your theories, Sara? You're the smart one."

Sara frowned, thinking hard. "I… this smooth-rock tech… it's older. Older than the aliens we encountered. Buried underground. And the aliens are interested in it."

"Like… archaeologists? Like Silva?"

Sara snorted. "Yeah. Bloodthirsty ones, though."

"Not arguing with you on that one."

They exited the cave cautiously; to Jon's surprise, no aliens were waiting for them, weapons pointed their way. Sara pointed at the peak of the hill directly ahead of them. "There. I think that should be high enough to get a signal."

* * *

Either the aliens' main camp was elsewhere, or they wiped out the only aliens in this sector; Jon was pretty sure of the latter as they reached the top of the hill. It took them maybe twenty minutes, hiking up a steep incline, and they saw not a single trace of the aliens. He patched into the frequency as Sara adjusted her omnitool settings.

" _… krchhhh – you can hear this, tune in to emergency frequency one-five-four-point-three. Got that? Frequency one-five-four-point-three._ "

Jon punched the frequency into his omnitool, Sara doing the same beside him, perspiration running down both their faces. It had been a long day; already Jon could feel the weariness in his bones.

"This is Sara Ryder on frequency one-five-four-point-three. Is anyone there?"

" _Ryder? Thank the goddess you're alive,_ " came Lieutenant Harper's voice over the channel. " _Are you alone, Ryder?_ "

The lieutenant's voice was just what they needed to hear: Jon sighed in relief, while Sara seemed to sag a little. It looked like she was as tired as he was.

"Negative, Lieutenant. Engineer Walker here," said Jon. "We're atop a hill somewhere. Fisher is WIA at our shuttle crash site. Greer and Kirkland are KIA."

Sara's turned her head in surprise at that announcement. _Greer is dead too_?

" _Copy. Our shuttle beacon is active; lock onto it and regroup with us._ "

"Lieutenant, be advised: we have made contact with what I assume are the planet's native species. They are armed and dangerous. They killed Kirkland and almost killed Fisher. Their weapons hit hard."

"Lieutenant? Watch out for cloaking… dog-like creatures too. They have a nasty bite," added Sara. "Is my dad there?"

" _Copy that. Alec went to investigate that tower that's spewing energy into the sky. Get here ASAP, both of you. And, Walker, Ryder,_ " Harper's voice betrayed a hint of relief at their survival. " _Good job. And good luck._ "

The tower Harper mentioned wasn't hard to miss. It dominated the skyline, bright blue energy discharging into the gray sky in a beam. Sara had briefed Jon on her observations as they climbed the hill. If that was what's wreaking havoc with the planet's weather, maybe the Pathfinder was already looking for ways to correct that. As crazy as that sounded.

"Let's get moving."

"Aye."


	7. Innocence Lost

" _Psst. Jon. Wake up."_

 _Jonathan Chang opened his eyes, popping the buds out of his ears, faint music in the quiet. He killed the audio program on his omnitool, quickly covering his forearm lest the glow gave them away._

" _Time?" he whispered._

" _Fifteen to midnight," replied Chester Ishii, also in a whisper. "We need to get ready."_

" _Already am."_

 _Jon reached under the ratty blanket, producing a complex-looking piece of tech, handing it to Ches, who almost dropped it. "Yi? Zhe shi shen me?"_

 _Jon closed his hand around the hilt of a titanium blade. It was a 'gift' from Ches, a token of their friendship, acquired from a burglary of an antiques dealer who made a wrong turn and ended up in the slums. He slid the blade, leather sheath and all, out from under the pillow, strapping it to his right thigh._

" _Electronic jammer. It'll block their signals while we hit them. They won't be able to comm for reinforcements."_

 _Ches shrugged and stuffed the jammer into his jacket. "You know you're a genius, right, Jon?" He reached over, ruffling Jon's hair. "Don't know what I'll do without you, man."_

 _Jon smiled and swatted at Ches' arm. "Zhou la. At this rate we'll lose them."_

 _The duo padded out the bunkhouse, careful not to awaken the other gang members. Their little foray tonight wasn't strictly unsanctioned, but they were hitting members of a rival gang, even if they were low-level, like they were. However, if they were successful, they would reap huge rewards. And maybe, just maybe, earn enough respect to move out the slums, to the middle-class neighborhood. True, maybe they'll then move on to more and more criminal enterprises, maybe even assassinations, but anything was better than being a bottom-feeder in this pigsty._

 _It was drizzling lightly as Ches closed the bunkhouse door behind them, Jon surveying the street. At this hour, the streets were almost deserted, neon flashing off puddles, a quiet hiss of the rain and pattering on rusting metal roofs the only sound in their ears. The score was several blocks away; a laughably easy distance for them._

 _They ran swiftly, feet almost silent on the wet asphalt. Waist-high plascrete barricades, set up by the People's Army decades ago during the Counter-Terrorism Wars to block off segments of the city, were of no consequence to either gang member; they simply kept running, using momentum to vault over each barricade. Jon even pushed off of the top of one barricade, leapfrogging Ches to the next set of barricades, never losing rhythm._

" _Show-off."_

 _Earlier in the day, they'd scouted out the route the rival gang's transporters would use to deliver their cash drop. Jon could see it in his mind's eye, as clearly as a satellite photo. Ches had piled some crates at the dilapidated brick house up front, so they could climb onto the second floor and ambush the transporters._

 _Panting slightly, they reached the pile of crates. Jon kept a lookout again, while Ches climbed onto the second floor. A low whistle. All clear._

 _Jon hunkered down next to Ches, who was peering intently at the street below. Rain dripped through broken roof tiles, landing on their heads, cool water running down their necks; they ignored the discomfort. The street was poorly lit, several streetlights busted, only a faint orange glow illuminating the area. They slid makeshift NVGs over their faces – again, Jon's handiwork – and continued to watch the street, everything now bathed in green, the shadows now exposed to their eyes._

 _Jon checked his chrono. Midnight. They should be passing through the area soon; their last pickup point was a soju bar just down the stree –_

" _Here they come," whispered Ches urgently, nudging Jon._

 _Two men emerged from the gloom; one of them seemed to be carrying a messenger bag, slung across his chest. Both of them wore hoodies with the hoods up, the Long Yan gang emblem painted on their chests. Typical of them to show off; Jon and Ches' own Er San gang preferred to keep things low-key, operating out of the shadows, their members unknown to the general populace._

 _Ches set the jammer down on the floor. "Here?"_

 _Jon nodded, twisting several wires together and flipping a switch. His finger hovered over a small red button, which glowed softly. "You go down and surprise them. Only then I jam their comms."_

" _Got it," said Ches, pulling a Carnifex pistol out from his belt. It was one of those new pistols everyone seemed to be crazy about; apparently those blue female aliens -_ asari _, like Ka'aira - that visited New Canton from time to time used them too. Ches' Carnifex was a fake, though; the forger down at the docks was unable to replicate the weapon's firing mechanism, something that intrigued Jon. He loved to take things apart and make something new out of the parts, and he was familiar with the inner workings of the last-century guns the slum gangs used. But this? This was something new. He made a mental note to ask the forger about these weapons, once the job was over._

 _Ches dropped to the ground, making less noise than a breeze. When the two men came closer, he leapt out in front of them, pistol pointed square at the one with the bag. "Zhan zhu! Bie dong!"_

 _Caught off guard, the two seemed to contemplate running for it. Jon lit off a small pointer laser from his position, aiming it at the chest of the other gang member, the one without a bag. He noticed it, and slowly raised his hands – the moment of indecision costing him the opportunity to run. Jon pressed the button on the jammer and slid off the second floor to join Ches._

 _Jon slid his titanium blade from his thigh, striding towards the gang members. Ches closed in, shifting his aim at the other gang member as Jon held his blade to the first one's throat. While he had the blade for some time now, he'd never used it to hurt anyone. It was merely for a show of force, or to cut wires when he couldn't find a cutter nearby._

 _Jon noted that this gang member appeared to be slimmer than he first thought._

 _Chester manipulated the straps, sliding the bag across his own torso. They had it, the cash drop. Now, all they needed to do was to get the fuck out of there._

 _The second gang member ducked and ran as Ches winked at Jon, mission accomplished, his fake Carnifex dipping slightly._

 _Ches spun and cursed. "I'll fire, you retard! Stop!"_

 _Jon, distracted, jerked in surprise as the first gang member, instead of making a break for it as well, closed the distance between them, his hooded face inches from Jon's own._

" _Nice play. Too bad, we're the smarter ones," a soft female voice emanated from under the hood, her breath warm on Jon's face._

Female?!

 _And before Jon could do anything, the gang member clamped her jaw down on Jon's blade, and shook her head vigorously._

 _Jon recoiled in horror as warm blood spattered the front of his jacket, some finding its way into his shirt, the warmth against his skin. The gang member, her hood falling back even as she fell backwards, had a look of something akin to triumph on her features as she lay on the ground, gurgling, blood pooling around her head and torso, her body twitching, back arching, booted feet scrabbling softly against the rough asphalt._

 _Jon dropped his blade, still staring at the blood, the clanging echoing through the street, a finality about it. The blood. It was_ everywhere _. He ripped off his NVGs, staring at his hands. He was afraid. Very, very afraid._ Wipethemwipethem _theblooddoesnotwanttocomeoffthefuck -_

" _What the fuck? Jon, what the hell did you do? WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?"_

" _I-I-I- she j-just… came towards me and-and… the…"_

 _Words wouldn't come. Ches grabbed Jon's arm, tugging. "C'mon man, let's go. Let's go! Fuck!"_

 _The gang member was found dead by her comrades the next morning, her body almost completely drained of blood. In their haste, the duo left the jammer behind, and it was used as evidence to start a gang war, which lasted two years, tearing up New Canton, resulting in seventy four fatalities, thirteen of them children._

 _Jonathan Chang was sixteen._


	8. The Dark Tower

Alec Ryder pressed one of the implosion charges he carried to the base of the lightning rod, feeling the device shiver slightly as it was primed. Still unseen, he moved like a whisper, gliding alternately between natural brown rock and smooth rock formations he theorized belonged to an ancient alien race, far older than the ones he'd encountered. They seemed to be as interested in the alien structures, this monolith especially, as he was. The patrolling aliens failed to spot him as he moved, using lightning strikes to cover his dashes through the open ground between covers.

Those lightning strikes. And that monolith. The power it was giving off, the beam of energy it was directing into the sky, seemed to be altering the very weather of the planet itself. From his observations so far, he suspected the planet was once verdant, but something changed. Something inside that monolith, something powerful, alien. He intended to get in there, to learn the secrets of the place, personal curiosity piqued. It certainly helped that unravelling the secrets of this monolith would help clear the skies, and allow them to return to the Hyperion. Complementing goals. And he needed to do it fast; their supplies were scarce, with oxygen being the limiting factor. They only had a day's worth for the whole team, at least, with Shuttle Two down.

But first, he needed to get through that damned alien base.

 _ **Agreed, Pathfinder**_ **.**

The base was set up close to the monolith, rounded corners giving it an organic look, a vast difference from the straight edges of the ancient alien structures. The base, and the monolith itself, was surrounded by some form of shielding, the source of which he was unable to ascertain. Pylons of some sort, spaced regularly, provided the framework for the shield wall.

The lightning rods the aliens had set up around the perimeter seemed to be channelling the powerful electrical charges elsewhere, protecting the shield wall. And that was where the implosion charges came in. Destroying the rods could redirect the lightning into those towers.

 _ **Pathfinder, I am detecting energy clouds in the atmosphere above us, with similar signatures to the energy cloud the Hyperion hit.**_

Alec glanced up at the dark sky, pausing in his ascent up the cliff. "Hm."

 _ **Your suggestion the monolith may be stabilizing the climate is not too far-fetched, Pathfinder. The energy cloud may be disrupting its function.**_

"A terraforming structure, for an entire planet."

 _ **Indeed.**_

Alec kept low, moving with catlike grace back into the cave where he emerged from. "Sam, are my profiles loaded and ready to deploy?"

 _ **Affirmative, Pathfinder. On your command.**_

He opened a channel to the lieutenant. "Harper. What's your situation?"

" _Engaging the enemy, sir! Multiple hostiles, but we're driving them back! Sara and Walker are both here with us, sir!_ "

Alec closed his eyes in relief. "Copy. Once you're done, lead them both to my position. I think I know what's going on with the weather."

" _Understood sir! Walker, your left!_ "

* * *

Sara ducked as another alien dropship roared by overhead. "Another one!"

Lieutenant Harper hefted her shotgun, pointing with her other hand. "Get to cover! Go! Go!"

Sara complied, rushing to take cover behind a supply crate. She checked her Avenger; the thermal clip was saturated. She ejected the clip, fished a fresh one from her belt, and loaded it. The ejected clip landed with a hiss in the pool of toxic sludge behind her; luckily Doctor Carlyle pointed out the hazard to them, having dipped a sensor into a pool and pulling up a twisted mass of burnt plastic and electronics.

She was surprised that the doc was with them, here on the ground; while she remembered Harry Carlyle mentioning he served in the Alliance military before, she'd always thought that he was retired from that career, and was purely a physician whose patients included the Ryder family. Now, he was fully armored up, pointing an M-23 Katana downrange, light glinting off his faceplate, obscuring his face.

He looked dangerous.

A shot whizzed by her crate, startling Sara back to reality. " _Seven total, airdrop,_ " reported Jon, who was lying prone atop the dropship. The report of his Mattock was followed by another announcement, " _Scratch that, six total. Three left, two right, one center, Lieutenant._ "

"Copy that. Sara, handle the three on the left, I'll manage the rest. Doc, Hayes, keep an eye on our six!"

"Got it!"

Sara curled her fingers into a claw, feeling the familiar energy build up on her palm, a purplish orb with a black center growing steadily between her fingers. _Time to see what biotics can do to these aliens_. She left cover; the three aliens were bunched together, bringing their weapons to bear on her – perfect. Rounds sparked off her shields as she continued to let the energy build up, a chime in her ear telling her that her shields were at fifty percent from those hits.

"Take this!"

She thrust her hand out, the roiling orb, now the size of a biotiball, speeding towards the aliens. They were barely able to react to the suddenness of Sara's attack, and the orb came to an abrupt stop in their midst. Sara clenched her fist; the orb pulsed, the air around it shimmering, and the aliens found themselves picked up by an invisible force. They struggled uselessly, weightless.

Sara sighted and fired, her Avenger spitting blue flame, riddling the three with holes. One of the aliens actually managed pull off a shot, but it was well wide of Sara as she put several rounds between its eyes.

" _Walker, your left!_ "

Sara spun around, alarmed: the direction the lieutenant indicated wasn't covered by anyone. Jon had only begun reacting to Harper's warning, drawing his pistol, an alien climbing up the rear end of the shuttle, rifle aimed at him, almost point-blank.

 _Where did he come from?_ Jon was caught off-guard, too slow to react –

Sara palm-punched, her fingers wide. The alien was thrown off the shuttle, arms flailing, a purplish halo surrounding it. Jon tracked it with his pistol and fired three shots.

He turned to her, nodding a silent thanks. " _Didn't know you were biotic._ "

Sara shrugged. "One of my many talents."

"More of them, coming up on our six!" yelled Hayes.

"Shit. Another squad coming up ahead of us," cursed the lieutenant, pulling off two quick blasts with her shotgun.

Jon brought down another two aliens before he switched positions, shifting his fire to their six. About eight aliens, all firing in his direction. He winced as their shots drained his shields, moving quickly, sliding off the top of the shuttle and taking cover behind a rock. Too many of them, and his Mattock had poor rate of fire. Damn.

A cry of pain – in his peripheral vision, Jon saw Hayes go down, holding her stomach. "Harper, Hayes is down!" called out the doctor, rushing to Hayes' side. Jon was the only one left holding their position.

He loaded a fresh thermal clip. Breathed deeply. When a buzz sounded in his ear, indicating his shields were fully replenished, he left cover.

And stormed the aliens.

This tactic worked more often than many think. And it seemed to be working now; the aliens did not to seem to be expecting him to be so bold as to come striding into their midst – they hesitated, ceasing their fire, and he seized that lull to attack. _All headshots: double-tap, swivel, double-tap, swivel, move, move, move!_

He managed to kill five of them before the remainder of the aliens concentrated their fire on him, his shields flaring. His Mattock beeped, thermal clip saturated. And he had no time to change clips.

Jon tossed the Mattock aside, drawing his Talon once more. Four shots, and three aliens left. One shot each.

Each pull of the trigger sent a bone-jarring vibration up his arm – the Talon's shots were akin to that of a shotgun's, each shaved projectile large enough to tear straight through shields, armor and biological tissue with ease. The first alien went down with a headshot; the second he dealt with a little sloppier, a shot going through its throat, another through its chest. The third one managed to dodge his final shot, bringing its weapon up. Jon saw a flash, felt his side burn. He gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the Talon. His shields must have been drained.

Jon drew his arm back, roaring as he dove forward. The alien had a fleeting look of disbelief on its face as Jon punched with the Talon, the barrel of the pistol striking the alien's forehead hard enough to draw blood. As it stumbled, Jon swung hard with his other arm. A gout of green blood spattered onto his helmet, a flash of yellow around his forearm, the omniblade sinking deep. He stumbled, falling to a knee, breathing hard. The alien's body landed with a thump in the dirt, head almost completely severed at the neck.

His suit's onboard computers had detected the damage to his underarmor, and already patched his wound with medigel, and the hole in his underarmor with omnigel. The pain subsiding, he felt slightly woozy, vision blurred slightly. He fumbled with the Talon's ejection mechanism, the thermal clip glowing red-hot, nearly bouncing off his thigh.

" _Walker? You alright?_ "

Jon stood slowly, unsteady, looking around him. No more hostiles. "Y-yeah, doc. How's Hayes?"

" _Gut shot, through and through, but stable. That was reckless, son. Could have gone worse._ "

"Jon?"

Sara materialized next to him, her blue eyes flashing with concern, fingers reaching for his wound, a patch of red staining the white-and-blue. He held a hand up.

"I'm alright. Just a graze. How's the other side?"

"Done. Between me and the lieutenant's biotics, they never stood a chance," said Sara, hefting her Avenger.

Jon turned back to retrieve his Mattock. And cursed. It lay bubbling in a pool of green-white toxic sludge, the stock already a half-melted mess.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_."

"We've got more weapons at the shuttle…" Sara trailed off.

Jon punched a nearby boulder, accomplishing nothing except hurting his knuckles. "Dammit. I built that thing from the ground up."

Sara laid a hand on his shoulder consolingly, not knowing what to say. He seemed to calm a little at her touch, shoulders losing their tension.

" _Team, sound off,_ " came Harper's voice on the comm.

" _Harry here. I've stabilized Hayes._ "

" _Ugh. Hayes here. Alive but in pain._ "

"Ryder here."

"Walker," muttered Jon, walking back to the shuttle, Sara in tow.

" _Hayes, take it easy. Doc, can you two manage alone?_ "

" _She's stable, and I can keep her stable. For a while._ "

" _Do the best you can, doc. Keep in radio contact. Ryder, Walker, on me. The Pathfinder's just ahead._ "

" _Walker, want me to take a look at you?_ "

"Negative, doc. I'll manage."

" _Good luck, you three._ "

* * *

Sara tapped several icons on her omnitool. The quantum entanglement communicator on their shuttle, Shuttle Two, was lost somewhere out there, and she quickly established a connection to Shuttle One's communicator. "Sam, are you there?"

A moment or two, then, " _QEC link established. Affirmative, Sara Ryder._ "

"Sam, do you have the Pathfinder's position?" queried the lieutenant as they jogged. Walker seemed a little subdued, toting a standard-issue Avenger, sweeping the area almost half-heartedly. The lieutenant decided to keep her silence on the absence of his non-standard, heavily-modified Mattock; he seemed to be very attached to it, preflight, continuously checking and rechecking mods, testing its weight and damage in the range long after training was over.

" _Marking the navpoint on your map. Exercise caution: the storm front is already gaining intensity._ "

"Nice to have you back, Sam. How about some good news next time?" said Ryder.

" _I do have some, Sara. The malfunction in your jump-jet has been corrected._ "

"Really?" Ryder leapt into the air. A triangle of blue flame erupted from her jump-jet, propelling her several feet more into the air. "Yes!"

" _Walker, I apologize, but the damage to your jump-jet is too extensive. I regret that I am unable to fix that damage._ "

The engineer touched the side of his helmet. "It's alright, Sam. I can manage."

Harper nodded at a rock wall which seemed to lead up into a cave. "According to the navpoint, the Pathfinder should be up there."

The Pathfinder was on his haunches, surveying something down below, as the trio clambered over the lip. Without looking back, the Pathfinder gestured with a hand, indicating that they should stay low.

"Sir?"

The Pathfinder merely pointed. A base full of aliens below them, protected by a shield wall several stories high. The tech here was far more advanced than any the lieutenant saw so far. "Who are these guys?" she whispered, incredulous at the setup the aliens have. From her experience with the asari commandos, it was practically impossible to get inside the base without alerting any one of the aliens. And that shield wall. Damn. It looked impenetrable. _And_ the sheer number of aliens down there…

"Visitors, just like us. I don't think they're native to the planet."

"They're not," Sara Ryder piped up. "Jon and I came across a group of them excavating their way into one of those smooth-rock structures. They might have been studying it."

Alec Ryder half-turned; the lieutenant could have sworn that he was smiling under the helmet. "Good work. You actually did some scouting."

"They were pretty protective of their find. Didn't even ask questions, just started shooting. We had to shoot back."

The older Ryder nodded, understanding the situation.

Harper approached the Pathfinder. "Sir, you said you had an idea about the weather?"

"It's the dark energy cloud the Hyperion hit. It's affecting the whole planet, interfering with _that_."

Ryder pointed.

This close, the tower was massive, twice as wide as a skyscraper on Ilium, and almost as tall, entirely smooth, black stone. It thrummed ominously, tendrils of blue energy curling around it. A pulse swept across the landscape; the team felt it through their suits.

" _The tower is caught in a feedback loop with the cloud. Together, they're disrupting the entire climate with undirected energy,_ " explained S.A.M.

"If we can get in there and shut it down, then…"

"The lightning. We can stop the lightning," said the younger Ryder, the realization hitting her.

"And the shuttle can get us out of here. In theory."

Walker, who was peering down into the valley, raised a hand. "Sir, I think those lightning rods," he pointed at a rod down below, and another two on cliffs above them. "Those rods seem to be directing the lightning away from their camp. And those shield towers," again, Walker gestured, "seem tall enough…"

"For what?" Sara Ryder asked, confusion on her face.

Harper nodded, immediately catching to the engineer's thinking. "I agree. We can use the lightning to fry their shield wall. It's the only way in that I can see."

Ryder acknowledged the statement with a nod. "My conclusion as well. Let's see how well these new implosion charges work."

The Pathfinder waited, his eyes on the sky, waiting for that perfect moment to strike. As his finger stabbed down on the holographic button, a pair of lightning strikes hit two of the lightning rods, one above and one below them. The strikes were sufficiently loud enough to mask the charges' detonations: it would appear that a particularly powerful strike had overloaded the rods. That was the beauty of the implosion charge: its destructive force was that of a similar quantity of explosives, but its detonation – thanks in part to a minute quantity of element zero within – was nearly silent, and did not show up on scans, electronic or visual.

The aliens patrolling the area brought their weapons up at the twin reports. They lowered their weapons soon enough, surveying the area, noting the smouldering remnants of the rods, their deep voices carrying on the wind.

The next few strikes hit a few of the shield pylons they could see. The shield wall flickered, then disappeared as the pylons sparked and began to smoke.

"Let's go," said Ryder.

* * *

Pathfinder Alec Ryder was a killing machine.

Jon loosed a burst at his third alien – as the Pathfinder was busy mowing down his seventh. He never slowed since they broke cover and began shooting, and he was way ahead of them, leaving them in the dust. Jon ducked to avoid several shots, loading a fresh thermal clip.

"Keep things tight! Don't get separated!" cautioned the lieutenant as she popped up from behind cover, delivering a shotgun blast point-blank at an alien. She tumbled over the top of the low-lying rock bank, landing gracefully, and scrambled after the Pathfinder in a single move, shotgun sweeping from left to right.

The battlefield was littered with white-green alien bodies, mostly the Pathfinder's handiwork; some of the corpses still smoked from the incendiaries he used.

"Woah," Jon exclaimed quietly. He knew that the Pathfinder was N7. He trained alongside the man himself, was awed by his combat experience, Ryder giving him a pointer or two. And yet, here he was, staring slack-jawed at what an N7 could do in a _**real**_ combat scenario. Badass.

Sara panted as she came up alongside Jon. "Need… a minute," she gasped, bent over. "Dad's… _huff huff_ … pretty fast."

"I know. He's like a machine."

" _Sara, Jonathan, get moving!_ " came the Pathfinder's voice over the comm. " _Sam, biotic amp interface mode!_ "

Jon had no idea how S.A.M. was helping the Pathfinder in his superhuman abilities, but he had no time to ponder that question as a few stragglers began firing at them. The alien's base appeared to be built around part of the tower itself, walkways and ramps extending up several floors, curving out of sight behind the far side of the tower.

"C'mon, Sara."

The Avenger was a good weapon. Standard-issue, thirty rounds before needing a fresh clip, pretty good rate of fire. But it wasn't as damaging per shot as his Mattock was, lighter too, which he wasn't used to. And they were dealing with far fewer aliens this time, thanks to the Pathfinder's swathe of destruction. Sara drew several of them out from behind cover using her biotics, the aliens flailing uselessly, Jon finishing them off with burst-fire.

"Heh. We make a pretty good team," remarked Sara as they jogged up a ramp, catching up with the lieutenant.

"Yeah," Jon agreed, turning to smile at her, before forgetting his face was obscured behind his helmet's respirator. "Your biotics, my improbable aiming skills… we're the Unstoppables. Second only to your dad."

Sara chuckled. "He's N7."

"You ever done something like this before?"

"Once or twice. Archaeological teams do carry lots of expensive equipment. But never this many hostiles though."

"I hear you. Even back on Akuze, I –" Jon seemed to catch himself, falling silent.

"Jon?"

"Let's keep moving."

Even though there was no map or navpoint laid over their visual fields, knowing where to go next was easy; all Jon and Sara had to do was follow the trail of bodies and the pulsing singularities left behind by the Pathfinder. As they jogged up a ramp leading deeper into the base, Jon suddenly swung left and let off a burst, an alien shape in his peripheral vision. Another kill. Sara yelled as another dog-like creature decloaked right in front of her, this time ready for it, unloading a full clip into it.

The lieutenant was waiting for them. "Come on, let's move it!"

Ryder was adjusting something on his omnitool as Jon and Sara took cover; the only way forward was a single walkway separating their building from the next. Jon peered over the edge – it was a long way down. He made a face, drawing back to safety.

" _Sam, load Engineer profile!_ "

That one got Jon's attention. He watched as yellow holographic armor pieces appeared over the Pathfinder's torso, arms and thighs, the man's dual omnitools overclocked, blood-red. He stormed the walkway, aliens firing uselessly at him as Ryder swept his arms left and right, directing gouts of flame from his omnitools at the enemy, setting them on fire, sowing chaos among their ranks. The tech armor fizzed and blanked out a moment where the aliens' rounds hit them, but regained their shape and coherence in a split-second.

Jon checked his shields – sixty percent – and followed the Pathfinder, his Avenger up, striking down the aliens Ryder had left defenseless in his wake, Sara and the lieutenant close behind him.

" _Keep the momentum up! Don't let them get the drop on you!_ "

"Right behind you, sir!"

* * *

They moved as one, the Pathfinder absorbing the brunt of the aliens' attacks. His tech armor was definitely above-average – maybe it was the N7-grade omnitools and tech he was using. Jonathan had access to N7 equipment preflight, courtesy of Ryder himself, strictly for research purposes. Maybe he could pull up the schematics once they're back on the Hyperion…

"Watching our flank!" called out Lieutenant Harper, firing her shotgun.

They reached the far side of the walkway. This close to the tower, Jon could feel the thrumming in his chest, an unholy sort of feeling that made the hairs on his arms stand up. He was used to the quiet humming of ship drive cores and unnervingly-loud vibrations of an Alliance generator, but it was hard to describe what he felt at that moment, even when he looked back at it much later.

It just felt _wrong_ – almost like an omen.

A doorway ahead opened once the Pathfinder reached a hand out to it, S.A.M. sending it the codes. A darkened room lay ahead, but enough light filtered through from the outside to illuminate two clear paths through the crates and other alien whatnot.

"Taking left, sir," Jon gestured with a chopping motion.

Ryder nodded. "I'll go right. Doing a fine job so far, Walker." He looked up as Sara and the lieutenant brought up the rear. "Ready? Let's get inside there!"

Jon moved, firing, as Ryder charged right in, gouts of frost now erupting from his omnitools.

* * *

"Doctor T'Perro?"

The asari blinked, the datapad in hand forgotten. "Ah. Sorry, I was checking on the team's progress. How's Scott Ryder?"

The medical assistant shrugged apologetically. "Still nothing, doc. But S.A.M. said something about being able to connect to his implant? Problem is, we need another person with a similar implant to make the connection. Handhelds or comms units just won't work."

Lexi T'Perro frowned at the statement, stroking her chin. While Alec did reveal some of S.A.M.'s workings to her, a large part of the AI's abilities were beyond her. _Remote connection via implant? It is possible. Yes. Perhaps…_

"Sam? Can you explain how the implants can make a connection?"

"Yes, doctor."

"I have a bad feeling about this…" muttered the doctor as she recalled the two profiles she was reviewing before she zoned out, worried about the team. The deaths of Greer and Kirkland still on her mind, she headed for her workstation, where she would have a little more privacy.

* * *

For the twentieth time that day, Jon loaded a fresh thermal clip into his Avenger, the motions fluid after so many reloads. Beside him, Sara did the same, checking her pistol as well.

"Okay?" he held up a fist.

"Okay!" she bumped his fist with her own.

All the while they were fighting through the alien base, they had been heading upwards gradually. Now, they seemed to have reached the top of the base, all walkways and paths congregating here, in some sort of loading area, or platform, in front of a pair of those smooth-rock hangar-doors. The Pathfinder was checking a smooth-rock console directly in front of the doors, omnitool up as S.A.M. ran translation algorithms. As the AI tested each, the hexagonal keys on the console moved randomly, as though invisible fingers were pressing on them, like an old-Earth plastic keyboard.

He'd instructed them to watch his back as he tried accessing the tower. With two major paths to guard, the lieutenant took one while he and Sara took the other. They'd beaten back about three waves of the aliens, each more ferocious than the last. Jon peered over the edge of the cover they were behind, only to drop to cover once more as the chattering of a weapon rent the air, his shields flashing from multiple hits. "Damn. Heavy, incoming!"

Sara took a deep breath. She'd never used her biotics so extensively in one sitting before, and the fatigue was getting to her. But they needed to get off this rock. And to do that, they needed to be alive. And if her biotics can keep them that way, she was glad to use them.

She clawed a hand. "Lift and shoot?"

He nodded. "If you can. This one's a lot larger than what we've been shooting so far though. And do it fast."

Sara rose and drew back her arm, tossing the singularity at the hulking alien headed their way. It came to a stop before the alien before pulsing and expanding violently, but the alien simply stomped _through_ it, unaffected by the mass-altering field.

Sara's jaw dropped. "What the –"

Jon grabbed the back of her rig, pulling her down as even more rounds erupted from the alien's weapon. This close, it sounded like a recycler, the churning sounds uncannily similar.

"We need to stop it from reaching us. And your dad."

"But how? People don't just walk through a singularity!"

Jon detached two implosion charges from his belt. "We blow the walkway; it's the only way. Cover me while I plant these. Watch your shields."

"Got it. Ready?" Sara peered over the edge of her cover. "NOW!"

She rose and fired wildly at the alien, who brought its weapon to bear on her. She counted at least thirteen rounds landing on her shields in the one second she was exposed. She dropped back into cover, slamming home yet another thermal clip, and her fingers brushed empty space on her belt. _Shit_.

She was out of clips. Her last thirty rounds.

Jon scampered back into cover next to her, breathing hard. "That did it. Let me know when that bastard reaches that pile of three crates. See them?"

"Yeah. Those three, with the alien generator next to them? Kind of forming a bottleneck?"

"Yep. I hope their weight would be enough to bring the walkway down."

Jon could actually feel the alien's footsteps through the floor, heavy footfalls like in a horror vid. His finger hovered over the DETONATE button on his omnitool. Under his helmet, his cap was soaked through with sweat. He blinked the salty fluid out his eyes, feeling the burn.

"And… hit it, Jon!"

The detonations were almost silent, but the alien's roar as it plummeted to its death was unmistakable, followed by the general sounds of splintering and crashing of materials. Jon risked a peek. The walkway was completely destroyed, a gaping chasm separating them from a squad of aliens who fired in their direction, unable to bridge the gap.

"We're good," he breathed. "Let's go support Lieutenant Harper. I think we're done here."

"Just in time, too," commented Sara as they jogged over to the lieutenant's position. "Down to my last clip."

The lieutenant drew her hands apart, tearing an alien in half. Both halves landed with soft, wet _plops_ as she fell to a knee, breathing hard. Jon brought his weapon up, scanning, while Sara checked on her superior officer. "Lieutenant? You alright?"

Harper gulped, nodding. "Used a lot of my biotics today. You feel the same?"

"Tired as hell, yeah. I can feel it in my bones."

Harper nodded in the direction of Jonathan, who was burst-firing at a target out of sight. "Getting along well with the engineer, I see. He's good people, Sara. Look out for him."

" _That did it!_ " came the triumphant voice of Pathfinder Ryder. " _It's a security override; I'll try to open the door from here!_ "

Harper breathed deeply, muttering something in the asari tongue. " _Tides_. Any more coming our way, Walker?"

Jon panned left and right. Nothing.

"I think… we got them all, ma'am. That was one hell of a firefight to get here."

" _Sara, I need your help over here!_ "

The lieutenant drew her shotgun, rising to her full height. "Go, the two of you. I'll comm if things get dicey out here."

* * *

Alec Ryder's pulse was racing. S.A.M. had overridden the alien security; that in itself was a feat. And now the door was wide open – figuratively speaking. While S.A.M. had unlocked the door, it remained unpowered. He turned to watch his daughter and his protégé approaching him, and he smiled inwardly. Doing well, the both of them. Walker especially, with his background, adapted to the mission relatively quickly, and surpassed even Alec's own expectations of the young man. Sara was still a little defensive, but that came from years of not being there for them, so Alec wasn't surprised by that. But she came through, despite her greenness; that wasn't something to chortle at. They all knew it was potentially a suicide mission, coming down here to Habitat 7, from the relative safety of the Hyperion.

"We need to get this door open. Put your back into it."

Following his lead, the two pushed as hard as they could on the upper panel; it rose enough to achieve head height. The bottom panel moved easier; it sank into the ground, creating a passage large enough to walk through.

"Dad, you really think you can shut this thing down?"

Alec grunted. "I don't know yet. Sam's decoded part of the language. Now we'll see if I can have a conversation."

Sara laid a hand on her father's arm. "Nothing on this planet's listened to us so far. Just… be careful, okay?"

Alec smiled at that. "Worried about your old man, huh? Don't worry; I won't tell anyone. Except Walker there, he heard the entire thing."

"Afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, sir," quipped Walker, pretending not to have heard the exchange.

Alec clapped them both on the shoulder. "Come on. These are the moments that make it all worthwhile."

He led them deep into the tower. The interior was illuminated by a strange blue light, the main source of which was a huge floating triangle which seemed to be made of motes of light. Alec stared at it, slowing his pace. This was probably the interface to the tower.

"Sam, begin translating."

" _A moment. Indexing._ "

* * *

Jon felt chills down his spine as the Pathfinder lifted a hand, palm-first, at the triangle. An alien galaxy. An alien planet. And here the Pathfinder was, trying to connect, to establish contact. And he was here to witness it, this moment that would be detailed in history books for ages to come. The thought caused him to activate his own omnitool.

"Jon?"

"Recording the event. For posterity."

Sara must have felt the same way as Jon; she drew closer to him, eyes glued to her father. "Can't believe I'm here."

"Can't believe _we're_ here," he turned his head to look her in the eye. "Glad to be here, Sara. Next to you, and your dad."

Sara winked. "Likewise, Jonathan."

A yellow data stream emerged from the Pathfinder's omnitool, expanding outwards into a complex web, reaching for the center of the triangle. There, a smaller triangle, entirely white-blue in color and pulsing with energy, seemed to react to the data stream, the pulsing becoming more energetic.

For a moment, standing where he was, watching the entire thing unfold, Jon could have sworn the Pathfinder looked like a god, one hand outstretched, energy all around them.

The wall behind the floating triangle suddenly blazed with light; a third triangle, beams springing from three points to meet in the middle, enclosing the first two triangles. A beam of light erupted from the tip of the third triangle, high above their heads, continuing upwards along the wall to a point where the human eye was unable to see.

* * *

 _The humans felt it; a great vibration under their feet, as the gathered energies of the monolith unleashed itself on the command of the one in black and red. The beam of energy shooting into the sky seemed to widen, became whiter, more intense, forcing the lone human standing guard outside to shield her eyes from the glare. The beam, previously colliding with the dark tendrils of the cloud that prevented it from reaching the planet's atmosphere, finally broke through the cloud, shooting straight up._

 _The entire tower shook with the energy discharge._

* * *

" _Pathfinder, sir? The storm, it's… gone!_ "

Sara turned and sprinted out to see for herself. The quiet confirmed it for her even as she laid eyes on the scene outside; they were actively dodging random lightning strikes on the way up here, and it was loud as hell. The dark clouds overhead seem to be dissipating, the land gradually becoming lighter as light from the nearby star poked through the remains of the clouds.

"I'll be damned. It's… working!"

Jon and Dad came up behind her, looking up at the phenomena in awe. Dad's hand was warm on her arm, a comforting squeeze, the most fatherly thing he'd ever done for her. "There's hope, at least."

Jon raised a hand, closing it against the sky. He appeared to be deep in thought.

The lieutenant joined them, all four of them looking up at the alien sky which didn't seem so alien now. Things were definitely looking up. If the Pathfinder was correct, they're standing on what was New Earth. And they just made it happen, fixing what was wrong with the place.

"That's all anyone back on the ark is looking for: hope. Hope that it'll work out," Sara managed to choke out, a lump in her throat. This was really it.

The Pathfinder moved, activating his omnitool. "Well, not if we stand around looking at sunsets. Let's get back to the shuttle. Carlyle, Hayes? We did it. Spin up the shuttle, we're here at –"

Jon felt himself thrown forward by an invisible force which knocked the breath out of him. And he continued to slide to the edge of the platform they were on. Towards a great big nothingness, a fall that would surely kill a human being.

He scrabbled desperately, fingers finding purchase in a groove in the platform. Reaching his other hand around, he managed to get the fingers of his other hand into the groove as well, holding on for dear life as the gust of mysterious wind continued to blow, a gale-force wind.

Beside him, Sara was not as lucky – she tumbled, head over heels, colliding hard with a smooth-rock formation. It arrested her tumble towards nothingness though, but the way she was lying very still sent ice through Jon's blood. But there was nothing he could do. As for the Pathfinder and the lieutenant, he had no idea where they went. Everything just went south so fast.

The wind died down. Jon was no longer lifted by the wind, his body gradually landing on the smooth platform surface. He clenched his hands, his fingers hurting.

Pushed himself up. Stumbled over to Sara.

He heard a faint hiss.

Sara's face was clearer than he remembered – then he saw the jagged edges of the broken faceplate. A trickle of blood from her cap, sliding down the left side of her face, tracing her cheekbone and continuing its descent. Her eyes were closed.

Jon fell to his knees, checking the damage. The faceplate was completely shattered, oxygen leaking through the huge hole. He accessed his omnitool rapidly, selecting the repair function – but his brain, having already worked it out, told him that the damage was too extensive. He can't create a faceplate with the omnigel stock he had.

His heart dropped.

Sara chose that moment to awaken, her blue eyes wondering. Then, as she drew a breath, it caught in her throat. Tried to take another. She pushed herself up, Jon helping her, despairing. "Sara, your faceplate… it's broken. Hold your breath, I'll figure this out."

Sara could only nod numbly, her strangulated grunts echoing in Jon's ears as he racked his brains. The human body could survive only six minutes without air, that much he knew from Dr. T'Perro's lectures on human biology. But the planet's air was poisonous. Did that mean he had less than six minutes?

He slammed a fist onto the platform in frustration.

And had a thought.

Sara reached a hand out to him, her eyes afraid, pleading.

And the thought that came to him crystallized; it was the only way she could live.

The events of the past few hours flashed before his eyes. The shuttle and the descent, the aliens, standing the in Hyperion's flight deck with Sara's inquisitive blue eyes on him, the Pathfinder's actions in the tower, almost godlike.

His heart was heavy. He was, after all, the replacement Pathfinder team member, for Scott Ryder. He didn't even have a S.A.M. implant. He wasn't truly Pathfinder material. He was just an Earthborn, who joined the Alliance to escape the slums. A combat engineer, who was lucky to survive Akuze. He had always wondered why Alec Ryder chose him out of the many other promising candidates.

Now, he knew why. He was expendable.

So, to have come this far, to seek a new beginning for himself, after all that he had been through, Jonathan Chang Walker was about to give his life to save another. Sara Ryder was a stranger to him, but in the past few hours, a sort of camaraderie had formed between them.

He supposed he should feel fear, that the inevitable end was finally here to claim him, after all those years of eluding it, dodging it in the shantytowns of New Canton, hiding from it on the pockmarked surface of Akuze, fighting back against it in numerous skirmishes with the batarian slavers on various planets in the Skyllian Verge.

He felt, oddly enough, at peace.

"Hang on, Sara."

Jonathan reached up with both hands to the decoupling buttons on either side of his helmet. He was confident his custom-tailored helmet would fit Sara, albeit a little uncomfortably, but she would survive this. It was only right that she should survive this, being the daughter of the Pathfinder. He would not be missed by anyone. He would be the one choking for air in a few minutes, but it's a fair trade.

He applied pressure to the buttons. Sara's eyes widened as she, even in her half-conscious state, realized what Jon was about to do.

"Not you, Walker."

Alec Ryder's hand clamped down on Jon's wrist.

"Sir?"

The Pathfinder was injured; he winced as he lowered himself onto a knee, activating his omnitool. " _Initiating transfer._ "

Before Jon could make his move, the Pathfinder removed Sara's helmet, tossing it aside, and removed his own black-and-red helmet, sealing it on Sara's head.

"Deep breaths, Sara!" grunted the Pathfinder. He turned to look at Jon, eyes blazing. "Walker. My last… order to you," Ryder choked. "Take… care of her. For… me."

"But sir –"

"Sam, encrypt – _cough_ – memories."

Jon's hand shot out, stabilizing the Pathfinder as he threatened to keel over. Ryder blinked hard, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "There is… still… hope for… your mother…"

Alec Ryder went still, muscles tight. Jon eased the man down to the ground slowly, feeling numb.

Ryder's eyes were wide, staring up at the sky, as his last breath left him.


	9. Benefaction

_Alec, this is Jien Garson. For the record, Year 2185. It's about "Fulcrum." I'm on the Nexus, and we're going into stasis for the voyage. Looks like you're already asleep._

 _I'm very uncomfortable with our "benefactor," and the fact that we still don't know who they are… and all these lives in our hands._

 _I should have done something sooner. This is all very troubling, Alec. Let's talk as soon as you reach Andromeda._

* * *

 _Jien, I got your message about "Fulcrum." It's now 2819. We reached Andromeda, but have no sign of the Nexus. I have the same concerns as you._

 _In all likelihood, the Milky Way… well, something terrible happened there. At least the benefactor spared us from that. But why keep hiding?_

 _Something's off. But we've got bigger problems at the moment – Habitat Seven may be a bust. Finding a home is all that matters now._

* * *

"Hello, Alec."

"I'm too old for cloak-and-dagger. I got your message, I'm here. So, who are you?"

"A benefactor, if you like."

"You have something to offer me?"

"A future."

"That's vague."

"A future… for your wife. You're out of money. Your contacts have dried up. You can't finish S.A.M."

"How do you know about –"

"I can help you. Whatever you need."

"Start by telling me what _you_ need."

"Your A.I. is more than a cure for your wife; it could also be the salvation for many others."

"I don't follow."

"Where we're going, we'll need a different perspective to understand things."

"Where's tha – the Andromeda Galaxy?"

"I have a proposal for you… and Ellen doesn't have much time. Are you interested?"

* * *

 _I had a strange meeting yesterday. I thought it would be with Jien, but it wasn't. I guess Jien's the visionary, the one who gets everyone excited about the project and drums up publicity. But then this "benefactor" apparently provides resources and money. And I mean_ a lot _of money. It's a little unusual, but everything about the Initiative is._

* * *

 _For years, there was a silent partner involved with the Initiative. The truth is, I was running out of money. Then a "benefactor" stepped in. I didn't ask questions. I never met them face-to-face. That was a mistake. I lied to everyone. Something_ big _spooked them in the Milky Way, and now they're moving a hundred thousand of us to Andromeda. I hope it's all for the good, but… I have my doubts. And now I think they're going to remove me._

 _Alec Ryder and I had a codeword for this:_ "Fulcrum." _He may have learned more._

* * *

 **File #1A98 – MISSING PERSONS REPORT: J. GARSON**

 **Andromeda Initiative founder Jien Garson has been reported missing. Her cryo pod was found open during the Scourge disaster, but no sightings of her have been reported. A bulletin has been issued.**

* * *

She covered her mouth with a hand, willing her thumping heart to slow, her labored breaths to be quiet.

The Nexus was a tomb, silent and dark. The only light she had was that of her omnitool – a mere pinprick of light in the vast blackness that was the Nexus, unpowered and barebones. It barely illuminated the floor she was standing on, let alone her surroundings, and she had both omnitools on.

She had no idea if anyone else was awake.

She had no idea if she was dead, and this was her hell.

She had no idea why the Nexus remained unpowered despite their arrival at the Andromeda Galaxy – if they'd even arrived at their destination at all. For all she knew, they may still be in the Milky Way Galaxy and she was only asleep for days. Or hours. Or even minutes.

She had no idea where to go next.

A loud clang in the darkness to her left made her jump, only her hand on her mouth preventing her from screaming involuntarily. She extinguished both omnitools, sinking to the floor, cold beneath her feet, icy to her palms. She crawled as quickly as she could away from where she thought the panic-inducing sound came from, blindly relying on the floor for support and direction.

If she remembered the layout of the part of the Nexus she was on currently – Deck 36a – she would be headed for Hydroponics. And if the systems were working as they should be, there'll be enough supplies of food and oxygen for the people on the Nex–

She heard something move behind her. A soft sound, susurrant.

How far behind, she cannot tell.

She picked up the pace, senses on full alert as adrenaline flooded her system. Fight or flight. Unfortunately, she wasn't the sort to fight – Alec was. If he was even alive. She wished he was here right now, he would know what to do.

She had no idea who it was or what it was that was following her. Let alone _why_.

She was alone in a semiconstructed space station designed to accommodate tens of thousands on activation, and even more after construction was complete.

In desperation, she activated her comms module, a single yellow circle on her right palm. "Nuara? Kelley? Kesh? Is anyone there?" she whispered urgently.

A red light in the middle of the circle blinked. No comm channels were open. Dead air.

She bit back a curse, the tears flowing, sliding down her cheeks. Her bottom lip hurt from where she was biting down on it.

Her hands brushed up against a wall. She moved them blindly, searching for something, anything, to let her know if a door was nearby. The silence was maddening, not even the quiet humming of an active air recycler in her ears. She could hear pounding, and imagined it to be the footsteps of her pursuer, but she knew it was her blood pounding, but it didn't calm her any more than finding herself in a survival situation with almost all the odds stacked against her.

Her right hand found a small, turquoise holographic circle which glowed slightly in the dark, and she sighed in relief. A way out. Probably one that led to Hydroponics. She pressed her palm against the circle, which enlarged and vanished as the doors slid open, the two halves separating with a quiet whoosh.

There was light ahead!

She crawled through the doorway quickly, closing it behind her, afraid of what would emerge from the darkness to lunge at her. A quick command from her omnitool – as Director of the Andromeda Initiative, she had executive access to all doors – and the doors locked, the turquoise circle turning red, a warning.

She slumped against the wall, allowing her eyes to adjust to the faint light, and for her body to rest after that adrenaline hit she took.

Safe. For now.

Her memory served her well: she was indeed in Hydroponics. Faint purplish lights kept the salarian plants alive, directly ahead; the human plants were off to the left, yellow lights calming and familiar to her; over to the right was the water recyclers, systems humming quietly, that section dark.

She got to her feet gingerly. She needed to find a console, to check the systems, and to use the security system to locate her hunter. If she was lucky, she'd just locked him – her? it? – in the cryo bay she'd just left behind. She headed for the human section of Hydroponics – with respect to the salarians, but she was unnerved by the unnatural purple light – where she was certain a console would be present.

She was going between rows of potato plants, the quiet hiss of sprinklers in her ears, when it occurred to her that she should get a weapon. But where was the nearest security station? The console, the console would have what she neede–

Over the sprinklers, tiny drops of water landing on her face, she distinctly heard the access-granted beep-and-swish of the doors she'd locked behind her.

She dropped, using the planters as cover. _Impossible_.

No one else had executive access to the system. How did her pursuer get the codes?

No time to wonder – her heart, slowed by her brief respite, began thumping again. She resisted the urge to punch the floor, instead crawling forwards once more, to the dimly-lit section beyond the human plants. She could already see the multicolored keypads that indicated a console – she could use that to access a security cabinet, get a gun, at least.

She reached the console without incident, but the silence was grating on her already-frayed nerves. She keyed herself into the system quickly, overriding security protocols. _There!_ A minimap popped up on her omnitool – the nearest security cabinet was beyond Hydroponics, in Security Station 37, Apartment Block 12.

She made her way to the exit to the apartment block, moving as quietly as she could.

* * *

She finished embedding her file onto her VI, encrypting it. "Fulcrum," she whispered, the system accepting the password and locking the file. Only she and Alec knew what "Fulcrum" was. Even if she died here, killed by her hunter, at least the secret will live on, and Alec could probably avenge her.

She would be caught eventually. That much she had accepted, hiding and dodging her hunter throughout the cryo bay, Hydroponics and Apartment Block 12. The weight of the standard-issue M-3 Predator was comforting on her hip, but the fact that her hunter had been persistent in searching for her, she was certain that the hunter wanted her dead, not to chat. And she had an inkling who that hunter may be.

Back to the apartment block. It was connected to multiple sections of Deck 36, and she could use any one of them to escape easily should the hunter try to look for her there. If nothing, she would give her hunter one hell of a chase rather than going down meekly. She'd given her hunter the slip, using another console to issue a faux-warning to a different part of the deck, hoping it would attract the hunter's attention. It worked, so far.

She slipped into the walkway, drawing her pistol, the beeps and hums of the VI consoles in the Cultural Center silenced by the doors sliding shut behind her.

She could hide, and wait for security. She'd emergency-activated the pods of the chain of command, including her second, Nuara, and Security Chief Kelley. She refrained from mentioning she was being hunted – she just asked Kelley to initiate a Nexus-wide sweep, effective immediately. Kelley could lock onto her omnitool's signal and –

Her blood went cold. Her omnitool's signal.

She immediately killed both her omnitools – so that was how the hunter had been able to follow her this far. She cursed inwardly, berating herself. _Dumb. Fucking dumb_. The hunter could be right here, right now.

She slipped into Apartment 34, locking the doors behind her. Time was short, if the hunter had indeed picked up on her signal…

 _Good_. This apartment had a linked system. She swiped a hand across the keypad, awakening the computer. She accessed the log system, speaking quickly, softly.

"This is Jien Garson. I don't have much time. I've been hiding in the sealed-off sections of the Nexus since we got here. Someone's trying to kill me. They're coming. I've embedded what I know in my VI in the Cultural Center. This log has the code."

"And whatever happens –"

Garson looked up in alarm as the door to the apartment beeped. She could see the turquoise circle turning green as the correct code was fed to the locking mechanism.

Her breath caught in her throat, her blood turning to ice.

Her hand shook as she reached for her gun.

"– oh God, they're outside the door!"

* * *

 **File #1A98 – ADDENDUM (MISSING PERSONS REPORT: J. GARSON)**

 **Update to the missing persons report filed on Jien Garson: maintenance crew found her body in a Nexus apartment. Severe burns were apparent, similar to others we saw who were killed during the Scourge disaster. It's unclear how she got there, but confusion and disorientation during the Scourge event are likely. Events align with the timeline.**

 **CAUSE OF DEATH: Casualty of Scourge disaster.**

 **STATUS:** **CASE CLOSED** **.**


	10. Human

" _Hi mom!"_

 _Ellen Ryder looked up from her terminal, her lips curling into a smile, the most beautiful smile in the galaxy. She seemed thinner, the researcher's jumpsuit she was wearing hanging a little loosely in places. Sara dropped her duffel bag to hug her mother, smiling, trying not to let her worry show._

 _As always, Ellen saw right through her; nothing ever escaped Mom._

" _What's wrong, sweetie?" Ellen drew back, holding Sara at arms' length, studying her. Sara had grown a little taller, her hair longer, tied back into a ponytail. Under her hands, Ellen could feel the toughness of her daughter's shoulders, a testament to time spent with Silva's Prothean research team, assisting with digging and cataloguing artifacts and structures. She seemed more at ease with herself, more confident; Ellen remembered a time when Sara was as meek as a mouse, afraid to even ask questions in the classroom._ The benefits of joining the Alliance military _, she mused._

" _Mom, you look… thinner. How are you feeling?" Sara's voice was steady, but Ellen knew that her daughter had been constantly worrying about her, ever since she stopped working with eezo directly two years back, after she had an accident in the lab. She'd been going to the doctor monthly for checkups, and so far nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just occasional pain; the pills helped. Still, Ellen missed the times with her eezo team, figuring out how to get biotic implants to sync with eezo nodules in the human body._

" _I'm alright dear, just work getting to me, I suppose," Ellen smiled again, the motherly sort of smile that allays children's' fears. The sort of smile that hid a parent's real thoughts. "We had a breakthrough a week ago. Doctor Roarke and I had been so busy trying to compile all the data from our tests; only so much a human can do," she chuckled. "I may have missed a few meals. Speaking of which, I've made dinner for us. Scott?"_

" _He's on his way. Commercial flight," explained Sara. "I got dropped off by Cassandra, she lives nearby. Is Dad…?"_

 _Ellen frowned, shaking her head. "He's at the Citadel. Apparently he requested an audience with Ambassador Goyle. Again. What for, only that man knows," she sighed. "Why is it the Ryder clan is never in the same room?"_

 _Sara exhaled, disappointed. She understood that Dad was a busy person being the Alliance military attaché to the Citadel, but that never blunted the sting of him not being around for yet another Ryder family gathering. Scott was less understanding – their last gathering had him storming out of their Citadel apartment._

" _Well, I guess it can't be helped," sighed Sara, picking up her duffel. The excitement of finally being able to tell Dad her stories, being on the legendary Mateus Silva's team, had evaporated. Scott had it worse, guarding a mass effect relay near Arcturus Station, with little to no action to speak of._

 _This was going to be a swell gathering._

* * *

"God _damnit_ ," cursed Captain Nozomi Dunn loudly, pounding a console with a fist. It was well-known amongst the flight crew that the captain never cursed, which made her outburst startling to all of them; some half-turned in their seats in alarm, mouths open, ready to query, hands frozen on flight controls. If the situation wasn't so serious, she would have laughed at the antics of her crew. Now? She merely took a deep breath, closing her eyes, muttering something in one of the old Asian languages.

She'd just spoken to Alec a few hours ago. And now he's dead? The Pathfinder's dead?

The flight crew turned back to their stations hurriedly as the captain began a slow circuit of the bridge, pinching the bridge of her nose, still muttering under her breath. She looked ready to lop someone's head off. And no one wanted to be her first victim.

"Ma'am?" Lani Reed, chief pilot of the Hyperion, raised a hand slowly, afraid, even though Captain Dunn was her friend – and former commanding officer – from back when they both served in the Alliance Navy.

Captain Dunn exhaled, then opened her eyes. "Yes, Lani, what is it?" she said tightly.

"It's the Nexus, ma'am. We've found it."

The captain's eyes widened. "Plot a course and execute. Immediately."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Status?"

A technician turned in his seat, omnitool synced to the systems. "Everything's stable so far, captain. Long as we don't encounter any more of that cloud."

"Understood. Keep it together, just for a little longer. Time to target, Lani?"

"Three hours, give or take, ma'am."

"Good. It's about time we had some good news."

* * *

" _Move! She's going into cardiac arrest!" the lieutenant yelled, shoving Jon out of the way._

 _Sara's world was nothing but pain; white-hot, excruciating, in her head, her body, every muscle tense, feeling like she was about to burst open like a ripe melon –_

Blackout.

" _Pulse is weakening! Tell the ark to prep medbay! C'mon!" shouted Harry Carlyle, his brow furrowed, gesturing urgently at someone she couldn't see, for something._

 _It felt like her brain was on fire. It hurt to even_ see _. Her vision blurred as Doc Carlyle pushed a needle into her arm._

Blackout.

" _Pulse dropping! We're losing her!"_

" _It's a seizure! Her brain can't handle the connection! Get her to S.A.M. Node!" shouted Doctor T'Perro. Sara tried to lift a hand; the doctor was there in an instant, pushing it back down._

 _She can't feel her feet. She can't feel anything below her chest. Numb._

 _What was going on? Was she dying? It felt like she was dying._

Blackout.

" _Sam, what's the reading?"_

" _Ryder's implant is overloading. I suggest a hardwire connection."_

" _Do it!"_

" _There!"_

 _His movements urgent, Jon ripped the wire out from the console, passing it to Doctor T'Perro. They half-turned Sara, exposing the back of her neck, where the implant was._

* * *

He was only dimly aware of his surroundings, dangerously uncharacteristic for one who grew up in the crime-ridden streets of New Canton, watching for threats every waking minute. In his vision, people moved around him, formless in Initiative jumpsuits. He, on the other hand, just sort of… floated. It was kind of like being underwater, like being in the abandoned mining pools him and Chester, and some of the other slums rats, would visit to have a good time, splashing about and competing with each other, to see who could hold their breath the longest underwater.

Nothing made sense. People spoke to him, shook his shoulder, but he wasn't really there, their voices sounding like they were bubbling through water, echoes at the end of a long tunnel, meaningless, jumbled-up, unfathomable. He didn't feel anything, even when medical personnel led him, like an infirm, over to a decontamination shower, sticking him under a jet of foul-smelling chemicals. He didn't feel it when they removed his armor, chattering at the injury to his side. He didn't even move a muscle, or bat an eyelid, when Doctor T'Perro took charge of him, probing his wound, cleaning the edges and sealing the whole thing off with a medigel patch, all the while asking him questions, receiving nothing but a blank stare and silence in return.

He wasn't thinking at all. Nothing occurred to him. His lungs continued to expand and contract. His heart continued to beat. His muscles ached from the cryo recovery process and the action he saw on Habitat 7. It didn't occur to him that he was breathing clean air. It didn't occur to him that he survived violent first contact with the enemy. It didn't occur to him that he was one of the first few humans to set foot on an alien planet, in an alien galaxy, two-point-five million lightyears away from the Milky Way, from Earth.

He was alive.

But it didn't feel like he was.

He refused to feel.

Because, if he did, he wouldn't know what to feel.

After all, he was responsible for the death of Pathfinder Alec Ryder.

* * *

Sara opened her eyes.

 _ **Welcome back, Sara**_ _._

The ceiling above was unfamiliar. But that voice, though…

"S-Sam?"

Sara pushed herself up – too quickly. She gritted her teeth as a violent streak of pain erupted along her spine. She endured the pain, pushing herself up further until she was sitting up. The pain didn't worsen; in fact, it seemed to fade. She pressed a hand to her face, rubbing her eyes, her eyelids heavy.

"What… happened?"

Now that she was awake and could look around properly, Sara realized she was in S.A.M. Node. The memories of Habitat 7 came flooding back: the botched entry, the freefall, her fight with that dog-creature, the aliens, the battle to reach the monolith.

 _ **You were clinically dead for twenty-two seconds**_ _._

She blinked. "I was?"

 _ **Yes. It was a difficult transition. Conditions were suboptimal. I apologize if you feel any discomfort.**_

She remembered something else. The firefight at Shuttle One. Doc Carlyle. Hayes. Lieutenant Harper. Jonathan. The fact that she was in S.A.M. Node meant that she was back aboard the Hyperion.

She had no memory of how she got to the Node. She didn't know how she even got back to the Hyperion.

"Did the rest of the team make it?" Sara pushed herself forward, so that she could dangle her legs over the edge of the gurney she was on, making herself comfortable. Her toes tingled. She flexed her fingers.

Before S.A.M. could reply, the doors at the far end slid open, Doctor Lexi T'Perro striding towards Sara, Lieutenant Harper in her wake.

"Sam told us you were up. How are you feeling, Sara?"

"I… had some pain in my back, but it's gone now."

"Look here," the doctor waved a finger one way in front of Sara's face; Sara did as she was told. "And here," Doctor T'Perro waved the finger the other way. She nodded, satisfied that Sara had no neurological deficit, making a note on her omnitool.

Sara remembered something else. The monolith. Dad activating it. He said something about sunsets. Then…

"My father… where…?" Sara said slowly.

Lieutenant Harper's eyes widened; she wasn't expecting the younger Ryder to recall so quickly. She dropped her gaze, glancing at the doctor, her lips a thin line. The doctor caught the gaze, looking away from Sara.

Sara felt herself go cold at their reactions; at the same time, her last memory from before blacking out came rushing out the darkness to the forefront of her brain, a sledgehammer to a wall. It left her breathless as she remembered: Dad cramming the helmet onto her head.

" _Deep breaths!_ "

She could hear his voice in her mind.

"Sara…" said Harper, coming closer, her voice soft. "It was your life, or his. And he chose you." She reached over to Sara's right, and pressed a black-and-red helmet gently into Sara's hands. The N7 logo gleamed in the ambient light.

Sara unconsciously rubbed the N7 logo with a thumb, tracing the straight edges.

Her mind was blank.

"I'm so sorry, Sara. I know this… this must be a blow," finished Harper, taking a step back, her voice cracking on the last word.

"I… how…"

Sara gripped the helmet, refusing to accept what the lieutenant had said. And yet, she remembered. _No. It can't be. He couldn't possibly be_ …

She closed her eyes. "I… I don't believe it. Everything was fine. He activated the thing," her voice quavered. "Everything was fine…"

"I know he could be distant," said Harper, her voice almost a whisper. "But… he once said that when his time came, he wanted to go out among stars no one had seen before."

* * *

 _I wake up in cold sweat._

 _Wondered for a moment where I am. The usual quiet humming of machinery nearby is absent, a sound I'd grown used to after eight long months sleeping next to some jury-rigged generators. The darkness of the Lower Wards greets me like an old friend, only the bright pink of a holosign outside providing illumination, slanting across my bed, across my legs; pink bars alternating with black bars, slats across the single window._

 _I push myself up, raising a hand, wiping the sweat off my brow. I feel cold, despite the environmental conditioner maintaining the room at a decent twenty four degrees. It's not the first time I've had this dream, nightmare, whatever. I thought I'd left it all behind, when I left Earth for good, almost four, five years ago._

Haven't I suffered enough? _I asked myself that question so many times before. And yet, I still have no answer to that._

 _But my conscience has other ideas, and I'm along for the ride, like it or not. Well, I should be grateful that I still have a conscience, considering where I'm from, what I've done to –_

 _Why am I gripping my knife in my other hand?_

 _Oh. Yeah. That._

 _I drop it, the blade tumbling to the floor. I put my face in my hands, breathing deeply._

 _I keep telling myself it's not my fault. That it's how things work, the cold logic, the way it's "_ just business _", as so many others would say. But in my dreams I still see their faces – Chester, Ka'aira, Boss Chang, and that kid who lived on the corner. The faces of those who I got killed in that fucking turf war I started._

 _Me. I'm responsible for all of –_

 _I get off the bed, cutting off the thought. Dwelling on it won't change things. I know what the shrinks tell me, smiling sadly and mouthing words I don't hear. Out the door, I toss the meds they give me right into the nearest recycler. Like alcohol, like drugs, I don't want to get lost in a haze, only to crash hours later, to realize that nothing's changed._

 _Point is, they're gone. I'm still here. And I blame myself for that._

* * *

It was a tense, awkward moment as the doctor and the lieutenant kept an uncomfortable silence, Sara's forehead against the helmet's faceplate as tears ran down her face. At length, Sara dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her jumpsuit. She sniffled, then looked up, her eyes puffy.

"What are we doing in S.A.M. Node?"

Doctor T'Perro's brow furrowed, pursing her lips, the academician in her taking over. She was glad for the question, having just watched a young woman cry her heart out, losing her father. Contrary to what many say, it never gets easier with time.

"Sam is now part of you, Sara. In a way that we don't entirely understand. It played havoc with your brain; you were out for almost six hours now."

"Sam?"

The A.I.'s voice echoed around the chamber, the holographic representation of him a swirling mass of blue motes of light behind Sara. She found it strange that before, when S.A.M. spoke, it was as if he was right in her ear. Now he was projecting his voice, as if making sure everyone else can hear what he was saying.

" _Your father authorized the transfer of Pathfinder authority to you._ "

That statement caught Sara off-guard. "Pathfinder authority? Isn't Cora his second?"

Lieutenant Harper stepped forward, her arms clasped behind her back. She looked as if she had swallowed a lemon. "In theory. In reality…"

Harper looked Sara straight in the eyes. "You're the new Pathfinder, Sara."

* * *

Dr. Lexi T'Perro was weary. Four hours: that was how long she had been in the Node, watching Sara Ryder's body twitch and jerk as S.A.M. tried to correct the implant overload, Sara's neurons firing erratically. Only when Harry firmly told her that she needed to rest, having spent the entire duration of the mission overseeing cryo recovery of almost a hundred more humans on the Hyperion, did she leave Sara in Harry's care, stumbling to the mess hall for much-needed nutrition.

Her team of cryo recovery specialists insisted that she deal with the Pathfinder team, while they took over her duties; she was the chief medical officer aboard the Hyperion, and the team needed her expertise. Hayes was still in the op theater, freshly-defrosted surgeons attempting to mend the gut wound she received. The morgue team was dealing with the bodies of Kirkland, Greer and Pathfinder Ryder himself.

The news hit the Hyperion hard – their Pathfinder, Alec Ryder was dead.

Lexi didn't have much time to give it thought, prepping the medbay for the Pathfinder team's casualties. From what she heard, things went south immediately when they arrived at Habitat 7. Greer's biosigns flatlined, killed in the crash of Shuttle Two – not too long after, Kirkland's biosigns went offline, as well. And there had been combat with an alien species, using some sort of heat-based weapons, possibly plasma. Hayes took the worst hit, a gut shot – reports from the op theater were grim.

And now, as Lexi made her way to the Pathfinder team's prep room, she began mentally preparing herself to face yet another casualty.

He, who joined the Andromeda Initiative without a second thought, at Alec's encouragement.

He, who considered Alec a mentor, a father figure, despite only knowing him for about a year.

He, who swore to stand by the Pathfinder, to fight alongside him if needed, to trust his judgement wholly, without question.

He, who witnessed Alec's death firsthand.

Crisis specialist Liam Kosta pushed himself off the wall as Lexi approached, the area cleared of unnecessary personnel. His brown eyes were both soft and hard at the same time, the anger towards the aliens who killed Kirkland and wounded Hayes clashing with the concern he had for the surviving members of the Pathfinder team, a trait from his time with HUST-1.

"Hey, doc."

"How's he doing?" asked Lexi, turning her eyes to the prep room's doors, which was red-ringed, preventing anyone from entering.

"He's still in there, in the shower. Almost half an hour now. I think he may be trying to drown himself. But given what he'd been through, I can't say I blame him."

Lexi bit her lip. Despite her experience in psychiatry and psychology, she couldn't even guess what was going through Jon's mind right now. He was an oddity, even back then, when Alec recruited him, a deviation from the usual human behavior and tendencies she'd seen and come to expect in her century-and-a-half-long medical career.

She felt like she was handling a live grenade. Granted, she was very comfortable treating victims of said grenade…

She raised a hand to knock on the door, feeling foolish, with Kosta standing there. Nobody knocked on doors anymore, not with VIs telling you who was at your door, but one of Jon's oddities was knocking on her door whenever he presented for a medical examination. He claimed, sheepishly, that it was an unconscious habit from his time on Earth. She supposed a familiar gesture was what he needed right now.

She rapped twice on the polysteel with a knuckle. "Jon?" she called out softly.

The doors green-ringed, and opened without a sound, parting down the middle.

"Stay here, Kosta. I'll yell if I need help."

"Got it, doc."

The prep room was quiet, only the faint sound of a running shower echoing off the lockers. Lexi slipped past the lockers, noting that Jon's locker hung open, but she refrained from looking inside. The top half of an Initiative jumpsuit lay rumpled on the floor before the entrance to the shower. No boots.

"Jon?"

He stood under one of the ceiling jets, water pouring over his head and neck, cascading down his bare torso, past the medigel patch on his side, through the bottom half of an Initiative jumpsuit, pooling around his boots. Both of his hands were pressed against the wall, head down, hair plastered to his forehead.

Lexi felt her pulse quicken. She breathed in deeply.

"Jon?" she said in the softest voice she could muster. "It's me."

"Did Sara make it?" his voice was level, normal, but he stayed where he was.

Lexi exhaled slowly. "Yes Jon, Sara made it. She's still in the Node, Harry's monitoring her. Sam's working on the connection now."

"That's…" Lexi heard the tremble in his voice. Jon recovered quickly from his slip. "That's good, Doctor. Real good. She –"

He cut himself off abruptly.

Lexi stepped into the bathroom. "Jon?" She reached out, hesitating. Touched him on the arm. She didn't care that water was soaking through her sleeve, or that droplets were landing on her face. He stiffened at the contact, but he didn't pull away.

"Jon, what happened… it wasn't your fault. No one could have predicted what was going to happen down there, not even Alec himself," said Lexi, the words tumbling out of her mouth. She closed fingers around his arm gently. "I reviewed your logs, Jon. It was a brave thing, what you thought of doing, to save Sara. But Alec…"

He looked up at her, brushing hair out of his eyes, the movement causing Lexi to jerk away at the suddenness of it. She had never seen such a look of desolation on a face before, and for a moment she almost wanted to wrap her arms around the young human engineer, damn her professionalism, damn keeping patients at arm's length. She wanted to wipe that look off his face, to tell him everything was going to be okay.

Except, it was not, wasn't it? No matter what she said to convince him, the hard truth was the Pathfinder was dead. Lexi knew parts of Jon's background; he found it difficult to get close to people, on the account of them ending up dead. Survivor's guilt? Maybe. And now the curse had struck again, killing the only person he trusted with his life, six hundred years later. To him, it would seem as though he would never escape his past.

Jon blinked. He seemed to sag slightly at Lexi's words, wiping water from his eyes. "Lieutenant Harper told me he never did anything without a good reason. So why, Doc? Why did he stop me from sacrificing myself? He's the fucking _Pathfinder_ ; I'm a nobody. I was ready to die to save Sara. Why?"

Jon pounded the wall with a fist. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth.

Lexi was taken aback. Was that what he considered himself? A pawn, a tool to be used and discarded?

"Jon, you're not expendable," whispered Lexi urgently. "Alec chose to train you for a reason. You aren't a combat engineer anymore; you're an explorer of the Andromeda Initiative. You promised Alec that you'd see the mission through, no matter what happened, remember? You gave your word, on your honor, I remember you saying that. And," Lexi raised her voice, letting a tinge of anger color her words. "If you really were nobody, would Alec have even _bothered_ looking for you on the Citadel? Would you even _be here_?"

Now it was Jon's turn to be taken aback. He pushed himself off the wall, backing away slightly from Lexi, her hand slipping from his arm. He looked so uncertain, so unsure of himself, holding himself together awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

"Doc – Lexi? I… I…." he stuttered.

He was at a loss at what to say, poised on the edge. So vulnerable. In that moment Lexi saw a young man, afraid of himself, afraid of the unknown, unsure of anything and everything, someone who'd lost it all. Not a seasoned combat veteran and combat engineer. Not a survivor of Akuze. Not the Pathfinder's protégé.

Just a normal young man. Lost, afraid.

One wrong move, and she could lose him forever.

Lexi T'Perro closed her eyes. _Damn it. Damn it all._

She stepped forward, ignoring the water soaking through her jumpsuit, and pulled Jon into a hug.

* * *

He dressed in a fresh Initiative jumpsuit, catching sight of himself in a mirror. This time, instead of turning away, he contemplated his counterpart. He stared right into brown eyes, trying to understand the thoughts behind them.

Pathfinder Ryder was dead, that much he could accept. People die all the time. It was the way that Pathfinder chose to die, by denying Jon his own death, that plagued him; it was why he felt responsible for Ryder's death. Did the Pathfinder have something in mind, a plan he was unaware of?

He may never get the answer to that question, another piece of baggage he would carry for the rest of his life, wondering, questioning. But Dr. T'Perro – Lexi – managed to snap him out of his funk. She reminded him of the reason why he joined the Initiative in the first place. He did promise Ryder he would see the mission through.

And now, recalling Ryder's last words to him – _take care of her for me_ – Jonathan Chang Walker felt his resolve return, hardening. He nodded at his reflection. He would continue the mission. Accomplish it. And he would guard Sara Ryder with his life.

For the Pathfinder. A father to him.

He straightened, combing his hair. He would need to report to Lieutenant Cora Harper, the new Pathfinder, for his duties. If she wanted to keep him around on the Pathfinder team, that is. He still didn't have a S.A.M. implant, after all.

But first, he wanted to stop by S.A.M. Node, to see how Sara's doing.

Ten minutes later, he was outside the door to the Node. He raised a fist to knock on the door, then paused, wondering for a moment if Sara was awake.

If she was, what would she think of him? Would she blame him for her father's death? He thought about what he was going to say. Apologize to her? Ask her how was she feeling? What do you ask someone in that position? Was there even a precedent for something like this? For a moment, his self-doubt returned. He wanted to make sure she was okay. But what if something he said made her _not_ okay? How could he watch over her then, if she hated him for letting her father die instead of himself?

Maybe she was still out cold, S.A.M. doing his implant thing. Jon remembered how Sara looked when he was pushing her to the Node hours ago: she was in immense pain, thrashing about, convulsing, eyes rolling into her head, hair a mess, mumbling incoherently. Whatever the artificial intelligence was doing to her, Jon found himself hoping hard that he wasn't frying her brain.

The doors opened as he was lost in thought, his fist left hanging in midair.

"Jonathan. It's not a good idea to go in there. At least, not now," said Lexi T'Perro, striding out, hand on his arm, guiding him away from the Node, down the corridor. She showed no sign of what happened earlier in the bathroom, having changed into a fresh medical jumpsuit, her skin dry, face neutral but for a slight frown – her "doctor's look", Jon liked to call it, the professional face she wore whenever it came to anything medical. He was intimidated by it the first few times; it felt like he was being scrutinized by a particularly stern schoolteacher.

"Sara's just been told she's the new Pathfinder. She's not taking the news well."

Jon felt his jaw drop. "What?"

"Oh, right," Lexi nearly slapped herself on the forehead. "I forgot you were out of the loop. Well, before Alec died, he transferred Pathfinder authority to Sara. She's the Pathfinder now."

Jon recalled Ryder saying something about a transfer before swapping out Sara's helmet with his own. That must be what Lexi meant, Pathfinder authority. But…

"Lieutenant Harper?"

"Not her. Sara. And it's all academic anyway. The connection S.A.M. made? It's linked to Sara's mind on a deeper level now, beyond the boundaries of the implant. I'm barely beginning to understand it myself. If we try to untangle it now, we may kill Sara."

"That's... heavy, Doctor T'Perro. At least she's awake."

"At least she's not throwing biotic bolts around," commented Lexi dryly. "I've had a few biotic patients before. When they lose control of their emotions, their biotic display tend to be… impressively destructive."

Jon made a face at that.

"The lieutenant's with her now, talking to her. Once Sara calms down, she'll need all the support we can give her. Scott's still in a coma," reminded Lexi. "I suppose Harper will brief you once she'd done with Sara. Just leave her be, for now. Get some food, some rest."

Jon nodded. "Aye, doc. And…" he bowed his head, thinking of how to convey his gratitude to the asari, finally deciding to take the simplest path.

"Thanks. For what you did."

Lexi nodded. "Go, Jon."


	11. Reflections

Lieutenant Cora Harper sighed, not for the first time since their disastrous Habitat 7 landing. She was fine on the outside; a thorough physical examination by Doctor T'Perro confirmed that. Her mind, on the other hand, was in flux. She wandered down the hallway slowly, stopping to rest her forehead against the wall, feeling the coolness seeping into her skin, wishing that it would calm her thoughts.

 _Why?_

She and Alec had discussed this, the possibility of him becoming incapacitated or being taken by the goddess. She was trained personally by him to be the Pathfinder, if necessary, as per Initiative protocol. She remembered the first time she met Alec, back in the early eighties – she remembered being intimidated by him, his deep, commanding voice brooking no argument, his actions swift and precise, led by a sharp mind that she could appreciate. She remembered wanting to be like him, and he'd taken her under his wing, after she was all but banished from Talein's Daughters. She was lost, not knowing what to do or where to go, and Alec Ryder had given her purpose once again, given her a direction to follow.

She learned everything about settling uninhabited planets from him. Spent time with him groundside on various planets back in the Milky Way, watched as he and his artificial intelligence, S.A.M., pointed out things like weather patterns, ground stability, even humidity: things she never gave much thought to, took for granted. Even in combat training, she was bested by Alec, who wasn't even a biotic; he simply moved faster than her, figured out her moves and countered them flawlessly, saw the gaps in her tactics and exploited them so often that most days, Cora felt like she was back in Basic in the Alliance.

For the first time in years, since joining Talein's Daughters, she felt humbled. First by Sarissa Theris, whose teachings she took to heart, and now by Alec Ryder, ex-N7 and Pathfinder. She was thrilled and grateful when the Pathfinder offered her the position of being his second-in-command – of the human Ark, no less! When they left for Andromeda, Cora was fairly certain she was up to the task, having learned a lot under Alec. She went into cryostasis with confidence, with certainty, knowing that whatever came their way, she and Alec could handle it.

The bile rose in Cora's throat, and she swallowed hard, lips twisting at the bitter taste. She was Pathfinder in all but title. She had the training, she knew what to do. Seven years with the Alliance marines, rising to lieutenant in record time; four years of asari commando training, her biotics honed to a razor-sharp edge. She was technically Alec Ryder's _tiamna_ , ready to serve and protect despite the relationship not being formally established. She knew him better than anyone else – his peers, the Alliance who banished him from their ranks, Jien Garson, even his own children.

So why did Alec Ryder name his daughter, Sara, the new Pathfinder? Sara Ryder, who – with no disrespect to Alec – was a complete newbie, with barely any combat training? She knew Alec trained the twins informally – which N7 parent wouldn't? But was that enough to be Pathfinder? She was the one who went through years of Pathfinder training! Her, Cora Harper! Not Sara Ryder!

 _Why?_

The frustration was boiling to the surface. Cora willed herself to slow her breathing, forcing down the stress, resisting the temptation to 'let loose' – she could destroy the entire Hyperion if she was not careful with her biotics. She exhaled slowly through her nose, remembering one of Theris' teachings:

 _A huntress who yields to her feelings can never be relied upon; a maelstrom, destroying herself, and her sisters._

After reciting an asari meditation chant under her breath for a few minutes, Cora felt the frustration subside, though her mind was still in turmoil. She opened her eyes and continued making her way down to her quarters on the habitation deck.

She needed to think. And one of the asari prayer books she had may hold the answers to the many questions that were running through her head.

* * *

This latest announcement was, quite frankly, getting on his nerves.

He slipped between shipping crates, careful to keep himself out of sight. His eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, watching for any potential ambushes. While very few knew of his real identity, he went by the adage, "you can't be too careful."

The mantra had kept him alive this long, after all.

She's raising protection fees again, barely two months after the last one. He found it harder and harder to get a proper drink, not with his habit of vanishing when the bartender's back was turned. Umi had promised to bury a biotic blade in his back if he ever showed up at her place again, and this time his honeyed words did nothing to melt that glacier of a look she gave him. He just laughed and shrugged to himself; Kralla's Song wasn't the only place he could go to unwind. But she did serve the best drinks; the floor shows there were the best of all the places he'd been to, here or in the Milky Way; the business deals he conducted here produced the best profits; and the girls – and sometimes, guys – he took back to wherever he deigned to call 'home' were the best fucks.

Well, maybe not that last one, she had a temper and wasn't too thrilled when she woke up to find him already three systems away…

He upended his cup, feeling the burn of the liquor as it slid down his throat, tongue snaking out to catch the last few drops.

He had his ear to the ground, so to speak, and already the complaints were coming in like mass accelerator rounds at an ill-favored guest: too soon, many were saying of the hike, and too steep. The number of exiles from the Nexus in the Port had already been dwindling, those unable to pay exiled a second time from the Port to the wastelands beyond. He'd been to the wastes several times as part of his job, and every time the experience wasn't improving; on the contrary, it seemed to be getting worse. The creatures that dwelt in the wastes weren't to be fucked with; he lost four of his best smugglers to one of those huge fuckers, saw one lose her legs to a single bite, and it kept coming after they fired a Cobra into its damned face.

This keeps up, the only people going to be left in the Port would be her and her cronies. He couldn't stand that, leaving all those people out there in the wastes to fend for themselves. Not to mention it would be bad for business. Many of the exiles were just caught up in the uprising, nothing to do with it, simple farmers and traders who were swept up in Tann's purges of the undesirables, led by her, of course. He always found that they needed something that they couldn't get by themselves, and so he offered to do that for them – for a modest fee, of course, far less than what she was charging, than what others were charging. And they were willing to work with him, after seeing the paltry sum he was asking for, but that was how you drummed up support for the cause.

He set the mug back on the counter and activated his omnitool, pretending to check his credit balance. The bartender was busy at the other end of the bar, pouring top-shelf for another customer – in this place, top-shelf was hardly worth a credit, in his opinion, but it was a place to drink and think. He slipped off his stool and, like so many times before, disappeared into the crowd.

"Keema, meet me at Outpost 14," he murmured into his comm unit. He never bothered waiting for a reply – the comm unit went straight into the nearest recycler, the evidence destroyed. That was how he managed to keep off her radar for so long – he and his outfit were always careful not to leave a trail behind. That was why she was getting vexed with their activities, their actions undermining her power in the Port and beyond. Maybe that was why she was raising the protection fees, to attempt to weed them out? He found that thought troubling, but if the people have to suffer just for a while longer, he would let that happen.

As soon as he found concrete evidence that it was indeed the Roekarr killing people around the Port.

As soon as he had a solid plan that would allow his outfit to hit Sloane Kelley's inner circle directly.

As soon as he actually had the time to be in three different places at once.

 _Ugh._ He could use another drink already. Or another warm body to spend the night with, to stave off the loneliness. Most days, it felt like he was in it alone, but whenever he saw the faces of those who worked alongside him, looking to him for guidance, to depose that tyrant Sloane Kelley from the throne of Kadara, he would feel like he belonged. It felt like he was part of something bigger than himself.

Like he was someone.

The Charlatan's lips curled into a satisfied smile, baring his teeth.

There was no mirth in it.

* * *

" _Kare raisu," Jon told the smiling waitress as he sat._

 _Daisuke's was where the Er San junior gang members usually hung out, and today was no different. Chester Ishii was already there, slurping noisily from a plastic bowl, three more empty ones in front of him. Jon raised a hand in greeting as Kai, Rei, Zhen and Yuuka called out to him from another table, Zhen grinning and showing him a rude hand gesture good-naturedly, acknowledging his defeat to Jon yesterday. Jon smiled and returned the gesture. All good._

" _Jon, lei gau mat ye ah? I was about to bankrupt Daisuke with my eating," complained Chester, setting his latest bowl down on the table with a loud_ thunk _. "Shit, it's pretty darned crowded today. Lucky for you, I saved a seat."_

 _Indeed, Daisuke's was filled to overflowing, far more customers than Jon had ever seen before. He spotted the man himself, clad in kitchen overalls and stained apron, cooking up a storm in the open kitchen, steam and flames blotting his portly figure out from time to time, serving customers with a speed only seasoned hawkers possessed. That was made even more apparent when the waitress returned, barely two minutes later, to slide a bowl of steaming curry rice in front of Jon._

" _M'goi sai," Jon thanked the waitress, slipping her a tip. Daisuke was an honorable man, and paid his staff on time and in full, never missing a single payday, but with how the economy was, especially in the slums, cash was always welcome, no matter where it came from. The waitress, a pretty little thing, hair plastered to her forehead thanks to the heat of the kitchen, winked at Jon, murmuring a thank you in Japanese. Chester tried to catch her eye, but she had already moved onto another table, jotpad in hand._

" _You've been meeting Ka'aira again, haven't you?"_

 _Jon shrugged, spooning the hot rice into his mouth, ravenous. Despite the crowd, the food was delicious as ever, and nutritious too._

 _Chester leaned back in his seat, lighting a cigarette, careful to keep the smoke away from Jon. "You know, you've changed since you met her. You used to be carefree, reckless as hell, like those idiots over there," he nodded at the four at the other table, who were laughing boisterously, clinking glasses of sake, celebrating a successful job they pulled off last week._

"' _The Twin Terrors,'" chipped in Jon, biting into a chicken slice. "Not much of a terror these days, though. Sorry about that, Ches."_

 _Chester waved the apology off, his cigarette trailing smoke through the air._

 _Truth is, he reflected, watching Jon wolf his food down, he liked that Jon had changed. He was glad for Ka'aira being in Jon's life. She was a decent person, deep under that aloofness, a most human trait for an alien. The path Jon was taking before he met Ka'aira – the path Chester had already taken – led to nothing but blood and death. These days, Jon was more cautious, more averse to violence, preferring to keep to himself, tinkering all day long in that workshop down on the strip, inventing little toys and gadgets that kept the children entartained and tools that proved useful to the gang going on jobs on more than one occasion._

 _He's a good kid: junior as he may be, he followed orders, kept his head in tense situations. He once drove nine senior gang members out of a firefight on Jinn Street, his knowledge of last-century petrol-burners enabling him to restore their crapped-out truck engine to working order, then jumping into the cabin and hauling the heavy vehicle out of the area. Definitely ready for advancement to senior tier._

 _But Chester didn't want that for Jon. He was hard, yes, able to defend himself in a fight if he had to, but there was a sort of quality in the kid that made him stand out amongst the other gang members, a quality that made Chester feel that Jonathan didn't deserve to be in the slums. He was more like a space person, those people living in the big metropolises like New York or London, Beijing maybe, flying off to other planets. He had honor, never once letting his adoptive father down, whether it was schoolwork or gang activities. There were no complaints about him from the other gang members, and even if there were, the critics were quickly silenced by his technical skills, themselves knowing nothing except partying and getting drunk. Chester himself was impressed on more than one occasion when Jon randomly spouted things he learned from community school as they were making their way back to the bunkhouse, basic things like photosynthesis. Or Newton's Laws of Physics. He's a smart kid._

 _Boss Chang himself seemed to be of the same mind; he once pulled Chester aside at a gang meeting, asked Chester to keep an eye on Jon, and to keep him away from the more violent jobs. To his knowledge, Chester had kept his word up till now: the most violent job they'd pulled off together so far was beating up a drug dealer who set up shop in Er San territory – the gang had no tolerance for drugs. Problem was, Boss Chang couldn't do anything more than that – he had to maintain impartiality as chief, and was as hard on Jon as the others when things went wrong, full of praise when things went right._

 _Jon was quietly itching for blood, for more action, contrary to the obedient façade he put up in front of the Boss. And Chester was hard-pressed to keep him from going out on his own and doing something dumb. He regretted that one time they broke into an antique dealer's apartment: the dealer was robbing people blind, the Boss told him, and so they should return the favor. He'd slipped a pre-UNAS military combat knife from the pile and gave it to Jon as a keepsake, a token of their friendship._

 _Jon had been sharpening the knife ever since._

 _Then, Ka'aira came along._

But that was a story for another time _, Chester thought, as he stubbed out his cigarette, handing several renminbi to the dour-faced waiter who hovered nearby, waiting for Chester to settle his tab. He tossed an arm around Jon's shoulders, smiling and nodding at something Jon said, not really hearing it, as they left Daisuke's. In the previous meeting, senior gang members only, the Boss warned Chester personally about a possible rat in the Er San ranks, and also about Long Yan gang members becoming more and more daredevil in behavior, thanks to their newly-discovered love for drugs, especially that 'red sand'. Two things which worried Chester, if he were to keep his promise to the Boss in taking care of Jon. But for the moment, he pushed it out of his mind, enjoying the banter with his 'little brother'._

* * *

 _That sunlit July day seemed so far away now._


	12. Arrival

An empty food packet lay in front of Jon on the table, its contents in his belly. He stared at it, twirling a fork absentmindedly in his fingers as he pondered. The mess hall was quiet, only a few support staff enjoying their first meal in Andromeda seven tables down, in preparation for their transfer over to the Nexus. A persistent but quiet hum echoed throughout the hall, the sound of air recyclers working to keep them all alive. It made for the perfect environment to think, and he needed to, after all that had happened.

Lexi was right. Some food in him, and he felt better, though he still felt tired after all that action. He thought he could grab some zeds, but the Hyperion had docked with the Nexus about ten minutes ago. According to protocol, he would be assigned to living quarters aboard the Nexus as soon as the personnel there cleared him through their systems. He could get some sleep there.

And then… what? What was he going to do in this new galaxy? What was his role in all of this?

 _Therein lies the rub_ , he thought. He _had_ a role: Pathfinder team member, albeit temporarily. But that was solely under Pathfinder Alec Ryder's purview, bringing him on to replace his son, and now he was dead. Jon thought about bringing the matter up to Lieutenant Cora Harper, who was supposed to be the new Pathfinder, to see if he still had what it takes to be on the team, but, as with everything in life, monkey wrenches in the works disrupted carefully laid-out plans.

Sara Ryder was the new Pathfinder. That worried him.

He reflected on the brief time he'd spent with her so far. She seemed friendly enough, and was competent in a fight. A biotic, like Lieutenant Harper, though maybe not as powerful or as skilled. And she had stunning blue eyes; he remembered wanting to say hello to her while the shuttles prepped for their Hab 7 descent. Alec Ryder's daughter. And he was supposed to watch over her, like some sort of guardian angel? He supposed he should feel honored that Pathfinder Ryder trusted him to carry out his last request. But that didn't feel right at this very moment.

He stabbed the packet with his fork, leaving four neat holes in the plastifoil.

Jon had no idea what Sara Ryder was thinking right now.

He was glad she was alright, after being out cold for so long. But now that she's awake, Jon's doubts began to return, the same doubts that occurred to him as he stood outside S.A.M. Node before Lexi steered him away. How would Sara react if she saw him again? Would she blame him for her father's death? Does she even remember anything that happened down there after her faceplate was broken? What could possibly be running through her head right now, now that she was the Pathfinder?

Most importantly, would she still want him on the Pathfinder team? She was the Pathfinder now, the shot-caller. He came to Andromeda to assist Alec Ryder in searching for a new home for humanity – amongst other reasons – but can he carry out his original mission if Sara were to dump him from the team?

How was he even to honor Alec Ryder's final wish?

"This seat taken?"

Jon waved his fork distractedly, indicating that it was free, an unconscious habit from his time in the Alliance, as he continued to –

He froze. The mess hall was virtually empty. Why would someone want to sit at the same table as him?

And that voice was awfully familiar.

 _It can't be. Of all the places on the Hyperion…_

"Hello, Jon," said Sara Ryder, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "You're a hard person to find, you know that?"

* * *

"Ma'am, I have a visual on the Nexus."

"Good. Begin approach when you're ready, Lani. Everyone else, coordinate with her. Status?"

"Hull plates still holding, ma'am."

Captain Nozomi Dunn turned as the doors to the bridge slid open. Sara Ryder stepped through, flanked by Lieutenant Harper, two steps behind and to the right of her.

"Pathfinder. Good to see you on your feet," said the captain. Sara nodded, taking her place next to the captain, hands on the rail. The Pathfinder didn't look as though she survived a rough day down on that damned planet that killed Alec; she looked fine, actually, if a little tired, but all of them were. Dunn was sure that once they docked, many of them would be out for a few hours, getting some post-cryo sleep – proper sleep, herself included, when she'd finished liaising with Nexus personnel.

Ryder's eyes were still red and puffy from crying, noted Dunn. She never really liked Alec, the stubborn bastard he was, but he was a professional; he knew what the hell he was doing, even if he had to step on a few toes to get his way. And while his kids may not know it, their old man cared for them more than they thought. She sympathized with the younger Ryder, being the new Pathfinder: not an easy pair of shoes to fill.

"We're at the Nexus," briefed Dunn, waving a hand at the viewport. "Took us a while to get a lock on its beacon. The asari, salarian and turian arks should be there too."

The Nexus was a dark, blurred shadow against the curve of the planet below them, a perfect white halo ringing a massive azure blue sphere. As they drew closer, the shadow enlarged and took form, blurry lines solidifying. The Hyperion began to slow.

"Starting our approach now, Captain," Lani called out. She tapped on a comms holo on her console, opening a channel.

"Nexus Control, this is Ark Hyperion, requesting docking clearance."

To call it _big_ was an understatement. As the Hyperion drew even closer to the Nexus, light from the nearby star was blotted out by girders and struts the size of skyscrapers, the Hyperion itself slowly becoming dwarfed by the sheer size of the Initiative's forward hub. On departure from the Milky Way, the Nexus was just a single Ward; they were supposed to finish final construction of the Nexus on arrival, a central torus plus the second Ward, forming something like a giant H, if seen from a certain angle.

The central torus was up, but the second Ward looked unfinished. Girders and struts, few lights Dunn could see. In fact, the entire Nexus looked a little darker than the Citadel, most of the segments of the second Ward and some of the first not showing lights, most of the illumination coming from the nearby star.

"Captain, I'm only getting their automated approach channel, not a live person," reported Lani, hands swiping at her console.

"Well, like it or not, we're here. Take us in, Lani," said Dunn testily.

* * *

Sara closed her eyes, her throat tightening, the grief and disbelief threatening to swamp her once more after she'd taken an hour to calm down. This should have been Dad's moment, the Pathfinder leading the Ark to the Nexus triumphantly, to celebrate successfully crossing six hundred years of dark space at FTL speeds, to toast a new beginning in this brand-new galaxy, the trip of a lifetime. A vision brought to life by Jien Garson, the romantic idea of being explorers and pioneers of the Milky Way.

Sara didn't feel particularly triumphant at the moment, her excitement when she'd woken up from cryo but a memory now. Neither was she in the mood to celebrate. What happened on Habitat 7 was nothing short of a disaster despite their discovery of that smooth-rock technology and a hostile alien species. And now she was the Pathfinder, the one person who would lead the way into the unknown, and she had no clue on how to be one.

She rubbed her temples; her head was beginning to pound. What the hell was she supposed to do?

"Construction should have been finished by now," murmured Lieutenant Harper, frowning, not noticing Sara's growing frustration at the entire situation.

"Well, I don't see any damage to the external shell in the Prime Ward," said the captain, stroking her chin, her seasoned eye sweeping across exposed framework. "Maybe they've had some resource shortages. I don't see any of that cloud we hit around; that's a big plus. Overall, I'd say things could have been worse."

A blade slid itself into Sara's chest, the captain's words grating on already-frayed nerves, the spark to a powder keg of emotions she'd been trying very hard to suppress. It was inevitable that she would explode, and explode she did.

"How!? How could it be any _worse_? Habitat 7's a _bust_ ," Sara threw her arms up, her voice rising steadily. "We might have started a _war_ with the first aliens we met, and our Pathfinder's _dead_!" She jabbed a finger at the floor, glaring at the captain.

"This, captain, had better be _fucking. Rock. Bottom!_ "

Silence.

Cora laid a hand on Sara's shoulder. Comforting, or a warning? Sara found herself breathing heavily, her heart pounding.

* * *

In all her years of captaining a frigate, Dunn had never had a raised voice on her bridge before. She blinked as the younger Ryder's tirade reached its end, her finger rigidly pointed at the floor to illustrate her point. The sympathy she had for Ryder intensified; she must be under more pressure than Dunn had thought, but Dunn had to remain professional. She merely cast a sideways glance at Ryder, raising an eyebrow.

* * *

Heat crept into Sara's face at the attention she was getting, the realization she had just yelled at the commanding officer of the Hyperion slowly sinking in. She looked around; every single pair of eyes in the bridge were on her, wide open.

Sara willed her breathing to slow, pressing a palm to her forehead. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her, the shame she was feeling right now, losing control of her emotions like that.

"I'm sorry, Captain Dunn. Long day," she said quietly.

* * *

Dunn grunted in acceptance of the apology. She still had an Ark to dock. "Lani?"

"Green across the board, Captain. Docking initiated."

The bridge crew scrambled to assist Lani, calling out adjustments she needed to make, which thrusters and counter-thrusters she needed to fire.

"Captain, the other Arks aren't in their docking bays. Just to let you know," called out another pilot, who was monitoring the external sensors.

"Hm. All of them, Simmons?"

"Aye, Captain."

"Understood. They could be out gathering resources; that would explain the unfinished construction. Thank you, Simmons."

Dunn was unconvinced, unease creeping into the pit of her stomach. What was going on? Why weren't the Arks at the Nexus? Why was construction unfinished? But she kept her doubts to herself as Lani fired the Hyperion's aft maneuvering system. The blinking lights of the docking area guided her as she expertly moved the Hyperion into position with gentle manipulations on her control holo. Dull thuds resonated throughout the hull as the docking clamps engaged, locking the Hyperion to the Nexus.

"Docking complete, Captain. We are…" Lani tapped on a circular green holo on her console. "Ready for transfer." She took off her headset and set it down on her console, sagging in her seat, running a hand through her hair. Around her, the bridge crew exchanged handshakes and high-fives, quiet conversation filling the bridge, some sneaking surreptitious looks at Sara.

"Good job, Lani. Good job everyone," announced Dunn loudly. She turned to face Ryder, her lips pressed together. "All right. I got us here, Pathfinder. Good luck out there."

She stuck a hand out, no animosity over Sara's outburst. Sara shook it, feeling ashamed of herself.

"Oh, and Ryder?"

The Pathfinder paused by the doors. Her face was pink.

"You know, if this is rock bottom, the only way," Captain Dunn pointed at the ceiling.

"Is up."

Ryder nodded and fled the bridge, Harper hot on her heels.

* * *

"You okay, Sara?" asked Cora as they made their way to the tram that would take them to the Nexus. She was still sore at Alec making Sara Pathfinder, but what was done, was done, and nothing would change that. She felt sorry for the young woman, though, being dealt a triple whammy of her brother being in a coma, her father dead, and now a huge responsibility placed on her shoulders, all in the span of a single shipboard day, and that was immediately after they woke from a six-hundred year cryosleep. The disorientation and confusion must be doing a number on the younger Ryder, if her outburst at the bridge was any indication.

Sara slowed her pace, slapping herself on the cheek, as if to check if she was in a dream. "The captain just called me Pathfinder. This… this is really happening," she said slowly.

"Take a deep breath, Sara," advised Cora as she led them past excited technicians, maintenance crews and deck officers, all preparing for transfer over to the Nexus. They passed a section leader briefing his crew, Sara turning her head to watch.

"Alright folks, this is what we've been waiting for. Let your teams know that docking procedures are now in effect…"

Cora saw the way Sara's face fell, and could guess at what was on her mind. These people, so prepared for their roles, so confident of their abilities, looking forward to their duties aboard the Nexus. And here was Sara Ryder, former Alliance marine and recon specialist, and Pathfinder of the Hyperion, completely unprepared for her role, severely lacking confidence, and she was supposed to lead humanity into Andromeda? Cora herself felt the weight of the title when Alec appointed her his second. And she was trained, ready to take over. What about Sara, who had virtually no experience, no training, in being a Pathfinder?

Sara turned to face her. Cora recognized the look in her eyes, those maiden asari she used to assess, all of them commando hopefuls, clutching assault rifles, faces dirty, eyes wide, asking her, " _What do we do, Lieutenant?_ "

"Where do I start, Cora? I'm just… not sure I'm ready for this," murmured Sara.

"Well, you weren't ready to fall out the sky over Habitat 7," Cora pointed out. "And yet, here you are, alive. _That's_ a start."

"That wasn't really me, it was Jon who… saved me," faltered Sara as something occurred to her. They came to a stop before an infoscreen, data spilling across it, too quick for Cora to read anything. "Cora, have you seen Jon anywhere?"

Cora shook her head. "Since we wheeled you to the Node, I'm afraid I haven't seen him, Sara. I think Doctor T'Perro was taking a look at him."

"Sam?" asked Sara.

" _Engineer Walker is currently a floor below you, in the mess hall, Pathfinder._ "

"Sara, we need to be at the Nexus. Hyperion needs its Pathfinder," reminded Cora.

"I think the Nexus can wait a few minutes, right, Cora? I need to speak with him. He saved my life on Habitat 7."

* * *

Sara tapped a foot impatiently as she waited for the elevator, arms crossed.

Jonathan Walker. Combat engineer. Saved her life, almost twice, on that death planet. The first time, from a freefall; she didn't know you could bypass jumpjet safety protocols.

The second…

Sara remembered Dad pressing his helmet on her head. Jon was right next to him, on his knees, a look of horror on his face. And yet, she couldn't shake off the feeling that Jon was somehow involved. She couldn't remember much after that… thing… blew them all away.

She looked up as the elevator pinged quietly. Doctor T'Perro was inside, staring intently at a datapad. She looked up as Sara stepped in. "Oh, hello, Pathfinder."

"Doc. What are you up to?"

"I could ask the same of you, Sara," replied the asari as the doors slid closed. "Aren't you supposed to be heading for the Nexus?"

"Well, I was. Then I remembered that I haven't spoken to Jon since Habitat 7. Sam told me he was in the mess hall, so I'm headed there right now. It'll only be a few minutes," Sara added defensively. "I'll head straight for the tram when I'm –"

The doctor reached past Sara for the elevator controls. Sara was too surprised to move, as Doctor T'Perro stopped the elevator, feeding a code into the panel through her omnitool. The elevator jerked to a stop, the doctor turning to face Sara, her face serious.

"Sara Ryder, I need to ask you something. Do you remember anything after your father activated that monolith?"

Sara blinked. "Well, uh, I think there was some sort of energy wave, it knocked us all clean off our feet. Next thing I know, I woke up to a really tight throat and my lungs were burning," recounted Sara. "Then Dad was jamming his helmet on my head. Then I woke up in S.A.M. Node."

"Anything else?"

Sara racked her brain. Nothing came up. "Uh, no, doc. May I ask what this is about? Why all the secrecy, shutting down elevators?"

Doctor T'Perro sighed. She leaned into the side of the elevator, datapad in her hand forgotten. "It's about Jon, Sara. He reached you first, before your father. It was his idea to pass his helmet to you, so that you could live. Jonathan tried to sacrifice his life to save yours. But for whatever reason, your father was the one who made the sacrifice instead."

"What?" Sara exclaimed, her headache forgotten. "But –"

"Your father died, Sara," said the doctor, turning her steely gaze on Sara. "Your father died to save you. And Jonathan? He felt like he was the one who should have died back at Habitat 7, not your father. At that moment, he believed your life was worth more than his, and he didn't hesitate to do what he thought was right. Jon was ready to die for you, Sara. And then your father sacrificed himself instead. How do you think Jon's feeling right now?"

Sara found herself speechless, her mouth moving but not a sound making it past her lips.

Doctor T'Perro drew herself to her full height, a little taller than Sara. "I've been monitoring Jonathan for well over a year before we came here to Andromeda, Sara. He isn't someone who takes sacrifice lightly. He blames himself for your father's death; that's why you haven't seen him at all since you woke up in S.A.M. Node; he was avoiding you. He believes that you will blame him for Alec dying.

So, I need to know, Pathfinder. Are you going to point the finger at him?"

* * *

"Hello, Pathfinder," replied Jon, dropping his eyes to the empty food packet lying forlornly on the polysteel surface between them. He carefully set his fork down.

There was no escape. He could feel her eyes burning into him, an accusing, scrutinizing look that made him want to curl up and die, in spite of her rather civil greeting to him. She probably hated him. Jon drew a breath, ready for the worst. He wasn't expecting this, Sara turning up exactly where he was, just as he was thinking about what he wanted to say to her, the last place he expected her to be, now that they've docked with the Nexus. He'd been trying to figure out what to say to her, but now, face-to-face with Sara Ryder herself, he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. He thought he was mentally ready for this, after Lexi talked to him, reminded him of the mission, why he was here with the Initiative in the first place.

He wasn't. He sure as _fuck_ wasn't ready _at all_.

"Fancy seeing you here, Pathfinder. You hungry?"

"Nah. I was just passing by."

They both knew it was a lie. Neither of them said a word about it.

"So, uh," Jon coughed. "How are you doing?"

"I'm…" A catch in her voice. "… still processing. But I'm okay. I think."

He nodded at the packet, as though it was the one talking to him. "That's great, Pathfinder. It'll take time, but it'll all turn out alright in the end."

The silence stretched. Too long.

"Jon?"

He looked up, reluctantly. Up close, Sara Ryder was – his stomach clenched uncomfortably at the thought – far _prettier_ than he remembered. Dark brown hair tied sloppily into a ponytail, loose locks falling over high cheekbones, thick eyebrows arching over the brilliant blue eyes he remembered. Her lips seemed too wide for her face, a slight smile, lopsided. She looked… plain, without the makeup Jon was used to seeing on Alliance women, but for some reason that made her all the more attractive –

Jon dropped his gaze again, hands on the table, left thumb rubbing his right. She didn't look angry. The worst thing about the whole situation was that he found her appearance appealing, when he shouldn't be thinking about things like that at all. _Her father died, Jon, dammit_. What the hell was he thinking?

"Are you… okay? You feeling sick?"

"I'm fine, Sara. I'm golden," he looked up again, trying to smile. Found that he couldn't, ended up looking like he was grimacing instead.

"Jon, I need to talk to you. It's about my father."

 _And so it begins._

"Y-yeah," Jon managed. Took a deep breath. _Fuck it_.

Jon forced himself to look up, into Sara's blue eyes. It took every ounce of willpower he had to say what he wanted to say. "I'm sorry about your father, Sara."

"No, Jon, it's oka–"

* * *

"What? No! Of course not, doc! He saved my life. I'm alive right now because of him. Why would he think that?"

Doctor T'Perro exhaled, long and slow. She closed her eyes, smiling slightly. "That's good, Sara. Jonathan, he's…"

Sara knew Doctor T'Perro for about a year and a half, maybe two years, but rarely spoke to her except during medical examinations. And even then, it was mostly question-and-answer about Sara's general health and fitness, the sort of food she likes to eat, any discomfort from S.A.M.'s implant, anything and everything medical.

The way she spoke now, Sara sensed that Doctor Lexi T'Perro was very protective of the engineer. She waited for the doctor to continue. The asari pursed her lips, eyes unfocused. "He's… been through a lot, Jonathan. He had seen and experienced things that would have broken most people. And yet he kept on going, but sooner or later he would break, too. I'm glad you said you won't blame him, Sara Ryder, because if you did, I think he wouldn't have any reason to continue living anymore. He would be a dead man walking. Or worse."

A chill ran down Sara's spine. "What… exactly happened to him, Doctor T'Perro?"

The asari shook her head, holding a hand up. "Sorry, Sara. Patient confidentiality. Unless he decides to tell you his story himself, I'm afraid that's all you will get out of me." She paused, a finger on her chin. "Hm. You know, Sara, you two haven't known each other long, but it'll be good if you'd talk to him about this whole thing about your father, clear up a lot of misconceptions now, rather than later. For both your sakes."

Sara frowned. "Shouldn't you be doing that, doc? You're the psychologist."

"No, Sara. This is something between you and him; I wasn't there when Alec died. He was. Alec was his mentor, and Jonathan looked up to him, was grateful for the opportunity your father gave him, bringing him into the Initiative. He can be a little tricky to talk to. Just be honest with him, be comfortable around him. He doesn't bite."

Doctor T'Perro removed the code from the panel. The elevator began to move once more.

"Go talk to him, Pathfinder."

* * *

Sara thought her quip that he was a hard person to find, trying to keep things lighthearted, was as good an opener to any conversation. She didn't account for the fact that he wasn't expecting her; she could tell from the way Jon froze at her voice. Like Doctor T'Perro said, he didn't want to face her. She could see his pain, the reluctance to look at her, the hunched shoulders, the quiet voice. And he didn't even call her by name, just 'Pathfinder'. An ache formed in Sara's chest, her frustrations at being Pathfinder melting away as he cut her off, speaking rapidly, each sentence causing more tears to form in her eyes as she realized how much this matter was bothering this engineer who had saved her life.

"I wish it were him sitting here now, talking to you, celebrating with you. Not me. I'm the one who should have died down there; your father died because I wasn't fast enough to do what I wanted to do to save you. You must hate me now for what happened, and no, I don't blame you for that. I deserve whatever you throw my way. He was your father. An Alliance hero. The fucking _Pathfinder_. Me? I'm just…"

Jon averted his gaze, holding a hand up to his eyes, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm… just a combat engineer. Nothing special. A nobody. You barely know me, Sara. I should have died, not him."

"Jonathan, listen, please."

Jon looked up, having said what he needed to say, and awaiting Sara to tear into him. But the tone of her voice wasn't what he was expecting – not angry, not accusing, nor even disappointed. It was pleading. The way she looked at him – Sara's eyes brimmed with tears that threatened to fall. Jon wasn't expecting this reaction.

He felt like he was teetering on the edge of a vast, black abyss.

"You saved my life, Jon, you made sure I survived that fall. That makes you a somebody in my book. I don't blame you at all for Dad's death, Jon, not one bit. Do you understand? If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here."

Before Jon could react, he found Sara's hands wrapped around his on the table, the contact pleasant, her warm palms smooth against the back of his hands. He almost jerked away from the table, but slowly settled himself back into his seat.

Sara didn't know why she brought her hands up to cup Jon's – it was an impulsive thing, spur-of-the-moment, seeing him so despondent, so vulnerable. She just wanted him to understand that she never blamed him at all. She could feel the tears beginning to slide from the corners of her eyes and down her face as she spoke, but she didn't care.

"Dad chose to sacrifice himself to save me. You wanted to, but Dad overrode you. So you had no choice in the matter, okay? Please, Jon, please stop beating yourself up over it. Doctor T'Perro told me you were worried about facing me again, that I would be mad at you for causing Dad to die. I don't blame you one bit, Jon, not at all, okay? Please?"

Sara's voice cracked as she trailed off, dragging a sleeve across her eyes.

Well, he wasn't expecting this. To be yelled at, maybe. But certainly not this, a crying Sara Ryder holding his hands. Jon didn't know what to do. What do you do?

"Sara, I…" he began, uncertain. He took another deep breath as Sara looked at him expectantly; he saw nothing in those eyes that contradicted what she said. That encouraged him. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Please, Jon, you don't need my permission."

"Well, I was afraid that you would be mad at me. I didn't know whether or not you'll blame me for your father's death. He was like a father to me too, a father I never had, and I wasn't expecting him to do what he did, stopping me and all that. I'm glad," Jon bit his lip. "I'm glad that you're not holding anything against me, Sara. And I'm glad," he swallowed, a lump in his throat. "That I'm a somebody, at least to you, Sara. That meant a lot to me, you saying that."

Sara sniffled, her lips curling into a smile. Jon's breath caught in his throat, his pulse racing. _She looks so pretty when she smiles_.

He blinked.

"One more thing, Sara. Your father, he asked me to do something before he died. A final request."

"Oh?" Sara's voice wavered, but she kept her eyes on his. He was saying her name again; Sara took that as a good sign.

"It's... a little weird, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way, Sara, but your father, he wanted me to look out for you. I think he entrusted me with keeping you safe."

"I see. And… how do you propose to do that, Jon?"

"Your father wanted me to replace Scott on the Pathfinder team, Sara. You should know I don't have an implant," Jon pointed to the back of his neck. "So…"

He squared his shoulders, his tone becoming more formal. "Pathfinder Ryder, would you like to keep me on the Pathfinder team?"

Quiet for a moment, as Sara's eyes moved from his, to the table, to their hands, as she pondered. Contrary to what Jon was thinking, she found Dad's last request comforting. She remembered feeling safe when Jon first approached her back on Habitat 7, the way he handled things with Kirkland. And it was that same feeling, the feeling that she could rely on Jon on the battlefield that led to their dynamic partnership when they met up with Lieutenant Harper, her with her biotics, and him with his marksmanship.

They could very well be facing a hostile galaxy in the future. Sara wanted someone she could trust, and Jon fit the bill perfectly.

She made up her mind.

"Yes, Jon," Sara Ryder said softly. "Yes, I do."

* * *

"Pathfinder. Walker."

"Lieutenant."

Cora led them into the tram, selecting **THE NEXUS** option on the destination screen. The door slid shut with a hiss, the tram beginning to move. Cora took a seat, activating her omnitool to sync with the Nexus systems. When they docked with the Nexus, the Hyperion's tram system automatically aligned and linked to that of the Nexus, creating a seamless transition between the two.

Over the yellow glow of her omnitool, Walker was looking around the tram, and at the view outside, though it was just a tram shaft, nothing of interest. Ryder was sitting next to him, checking her own omnitool; from time to time, she snuck glances at Walker, who was oblivious, now positioned comfortably in his seat, eyes closed, on his face a look of peace. Ryder, too, looked a little less stressed, a slight smile on her face.

Walker was a good soldier, from what she'd seen so far of him on Habitat 7: brave, capable, a team player who adapted quickly to changing situations. Qualities that would definitely earn him a place with the asari commandos, if he was born an asari. But something about the combat engineer troubled her. She'd pulled his files after reviewing the logs from the team's final moments on Habitat 7 in her quarters, and found something strange. While his file was arranged in the standard Alliance format – as it was for any Alliance citizen – many parts of it was redacted, blank spaces where text should be. She'd never seen something like this before, not in her seven years in the marines.

" _Sam, who encrypted these files?"_

" _Pathfinder Alec Ryder, Lieutenant."_

" _Decrypt Walker's file, Sam. My authorization."_

" _Access denied, Lieutenant. Only the Pathfinder or Engineer Walker has the authority to do so."_

And Walker was there when the Pathfinder died…

It certainly did not help that the logs were scrambled beyond salvation in those critical minutes, after the monolith blew them all away; S.A.M. assured her that it was due to his transfer over to Sara from Alec. There was no record whatsoever of those minutes, except eyewitness accounts from Sara, who was barely conscious, and Walker himself.

She'd spoken to Walker. He'd given her the entire story, from when they were nearly blown off the platform till the extraction in a flat voice, devoid of emotion. The Pathfinder's death must be a severe shock to him, more than any of them, but he was a combat veteran, right? Death was part and parcel of the job. Why was he so affected?

Cora wished it was a straightforward case, so that she could focus on assisting Sara Ryder in becoming the new Pathfinder. With so many holes in Walker's history, despite his commendable performance so far, she resigned to keep an eye on him. Well, she would play along for now, as Sara's second-in-command. She would need to do some digging on Walker, see what his motivations are. And the person to best ask was the one he was closest to, other than Alec Ryder – Doctor Lexi T'Perro.

* * *

"Here we are."

Jon opened his eyes, pushing himself up. It only felt like minutes since they pushed off from the Hyperion – it _was_ only a few minutes, he mused as he checked his chrono. About five, maybe ten. He must have been really tired to doze off like that. He would need some proper sleep, soon.

Lieutenant Harper stood by the open door. Sara passed her, stepping out onto the platform, taking the first step into the Nexus as the Pathfinder. Jon sighed in relief, his meeting with Sara having gone better than he had expected.

" _Why me, Jon?"_

" _Your father had his reasons, Sara. I think those reasons will come to you in time."_

" _I hope so. I have no idea how to be a Pathfinder."_

" _Then I guess you'll find out along the way. I believe you're up for it, Sara. Lieutenant Harper's there to guide you. And me, though I'm not sure where I fit in. But I'll do my best to help you, Sara. I got your back."_

 _Sara chuckled. "Well, it's not like I have a choice, but thank you for your support, Jon. I'll be needing it."_

The entrance hallway to the Nexus was half-lit, strip lights flickering. A power junction, to the left of the closed doors, had its front panel off, the box itself sparking. Jon activated his scanner, holding his hand out. Bad maintenance? This was sloppy, poor lighting and leaving a junction exposed. If this were the military there would be words.

"So, Cora, what are we supposed to do now? Meet Jien Garson?"

The diagnostic data that came up on Jon's omnitool told him that the Nexus power supply was at a minimum, with nonessential systems offline. Most of the power – he swiped at a few infoboxes, looking for the right one – was directed to Cryogenics and Hydroponics. Power generation was barely enough to keep up with the demand.

"Yep. Protocol states that…"

Jon moved closer to the door. Red ring. He accessed the door's systems, bypassing the lock with a simple hack. Green ring.

"That's odd. No welcoming party? A locked door? Power in the red? Sara, something's off here."

The doors slid open.

Utter darkness.


	13. Reunion And Sabotage

Tiran Kandros was awakened by a vibration along his left forearm. He shook his head to clear the buzz, pushing himself up in his chair, his back aching. He checked his omnitool: automated status update from the security console. He must have been out for quite a while, judging by the fact the shift had changed, without him supervising; Sergeant Havok must have overseen the shift change in his stead.

He brought the console in front of him out of standby mode, checking the security situation, his familiarity with the system lending him speed. Nexus Time was… his eyes flicked to the top right corner of the holoscreen: zero two thirty five. It was exactly four hundred days since the Nexus had arrived in the Heleus Cluster.

Everything seemed quiet. Nothing had tripped the few motion sensors he'd personally set up in the uninhabited parts of the Nexus, and the two-man patrols he had organized were doing their rounds, fully armored and armed. He zoomed in on one of his men: _Henley? And Majo? Weren't they in the last shift?_ A quick check of his logs cleared the discrepancy; the two volunteered to cover another shift, citing 'inability to sleep.'

That was a common problem amongst the crew of the Nexus these days, what with the uprising a few months back, and food stores dwindling, and those two outposts on Eos failing miserably… Kandros shook his head, sighing.

He wasn't Nexus Director of Security; Sloane Kelley, his boss, was. That was, before she joined the uprising, and was exiled along with the rebels; Kandros was out on a prospecting mission on an unnamed moon at the time. When he got back to a chaotic Nexus, the dust from the uprising barely settling, he was the most senior combat-trained person on the station. It didn't help that he rescued most of his team from those damned kett; they all looked to him for guidance, and Tann elected him into the position right away. Now people called him Director, instead of Lieutenant.

The uprising was a good thing, he supposed, fewer mouths to feed. Even so the situation looked grim. The original plan was the Pathfinders would immediately deploy on arrival at Andromeda, to scout out the seven Golden Worlds they selected from before their six-hundred-year voyage. Problem was, not one Ark could be found when the Nexus arrived. No transmissions, nothing. No Arks, no Pathfinders. Tann had taken over by then, sending out shuttles to scout out the planets instead. The ones that made it back reported completely uninhabitable planets, all seven of them.

Then the uprising happened. Hydroponics was damaged during the uprising, at least two years' worth of food lost in the form of burned crops. And the rebels stole plenty of supplies before the krogan stepped in. And then the krogan had a problem with Tann…

Only he, Kesh, Addison and Tann knew there were barely months of food left before they will all begin to starve. The situation was worse for him and the other turians who were awake; there had been no word from the Natanus, from Pathfinder Macen Barro, who was supposed to scout out a dextro protein-suitable planet called H-047c… The dextro food supplies they had left was already giving him nightmares. He'd rather be back in the Milky Way, leading his squad into firefights and dying on the battlefield, than to slowly feel life slipping away as he clutched in agony at an empty stomach.

Sergeant Havok materialized at his shoulder, as if Kandros' sigh was the signal for him to return to his boss' side. Havok gently placed a mug of dextro-coffee – the humans' term for the drink, not his – by his left hand. Everyone on his security force – or rather, militia, since the majority of Nexus Security chose exile alongside Kelley – knew the stakes, and rationed their food supply to help cope with the shortage. This mug of dextro-coffee, he estimated, would probably have to last two days. Lucky they had a heater nearby, to keep beverages warm.

"Boss. Thought you could use the sleep. Nothing's changed so far. All quiet."

Kandros nodded his thanks, sipping, the rich, bitter flavor chasing away the last of his drowsiness. The biggest problem was, they had been sending out scouting parties to look for the Arks, to scout out Eos again, to monitor the kett presence. Many ships returned with grim news – still nothing on the Arks, and the kett were ramping up operations. Eos was the same radioactive shithole that killed off the first two colonization attempts. Soon after, a lot of the ships failed to return to the Nexus at all, even the Initiative Scout Ships originally meant for the Pathfinders. Those speedy little things were able to do thirteen lightyears per day, and the loss of those ships just made things worse when he had to report the losses to Tann, Addison and Kesh.

Morale on the Nexus was at an all-time low after the uprising, the news that the Golden Worlds were more like 'Death Worlds'. Kandros had to put his foot down on a few occasions, rounding up unruly personnel and letting them cool down in the holding cells. But he was worried that if he kept this up, they might be looking at a second uprising. Tann's attempts at glossing over the rough patches did nothing to help.

Kandros tuned in to the Directors' comm channel: as usual, more bickering and shouting, mostly between Addison and Tann. He tuned out, sighing. All these arguments, and nothing concrete to show for it in the end. Stalemate, all day, every day. Kandros had been hoping and praying hard to the spirits that somehow one of the Arks would show up. Natanus, Leusinia, Hyperion, Paarchero, he didn't care which. Just something to break the deadlock they were all in. Else, he and Havok were in charge of guarding a dying space station; it was only a matter of time.

And, as if things weren't complicated enough, there was that Rensus case…

Kandros resisted the urge to slam his bony forehead into the console. Spirits. He was here to investigate the Initiative for the Hierarchy, not to become its head of security!

"Chief?"

"Yes, Havok?" Kandros kept his voice level, the soldier in him taking over. Times like these, it was discipline that kept him level-headed, practical.

The sergeant was cycling through security cams at his station, next to Kandros'. He took a sip of his own steaming mug of human coffee, the aroma strong even from this distance. "External sensors tripped, boss. Says an Ark is docking."

Kandros dismissed the report with a wave of his hand, disappointed. That was the twelfth time this month; no Arks were there when he checked it out. He'd cleared the docking area of personnel after the uprising to conserve power, after advisement from Kesh.

"Forget it, Havok. They hadn't repaired the sensors from that Scourge hit yet."

"You got it, boss."

Kandros brought up the Rensus case file up on his screen; what else was there to do? He'd checked equipment in the armory, did his rounds – he preferred to be 'out there' with his men, not at a desk – spoke to Kesh, tried his best to avoid Addison and failing, did more rounds, took inventory of their remaining supplies… he even got some sleep!

To him, the case was closed. Rensus _looked_ guilty, even if he had said that he didn't mean to shoot Reynolds. All Kandros had to go on was a crappy audio file from Rensus' omnitool. And his wife, Mariette, had been bugging Kandros every single day, insisting he didn't shoot Reynolds. And they couldn't send a team to Eos to verify the scene; kett forces had swarmed the area as soon as the survivors of the second colonization attempt had taken off. They're still there, a sweep from an Initiative satellite in Eos' orbit confirmed.

"What do you think about the Rensus case, Havok?" Kandros trusted the former Alliance soldier. A good head on good shoulders. His opinion could give Kandros a fresh perspective into the case.

"Havok?"

The sergeant's eyes were glued to his screen, his mug halfway up to his mouth, which was hanging open as he watched something unfold.

"What is it?" Kandros moved over to Havok's station, looking at the screen for himself, reaching for his omnitool to scramble his security teams.

"It's…" Havok set his mug down, lest he dropped it. "Power's on in the docking area, chief, activated by omnitool. Not one of our own: registered to a Walker, Jonathan C. He's a Pathfinder team member of Ark Hyperion."

Havok turned to look at his chief, a sparkle in his eyes. "An Ark, boss. The sensors were right this time."

An alert popped up on Kandros' omnitool.

 **REPORT: VISUAL ON ARK HYPERION**

 **DIRECTOR KANDROS, TOOMBS AND KESARA REPORTING FROM DECK 17. WE HAVE A VISUAL OF THE ARK HYPERION AT THE DOCK. INSTRUCTIONS?**

Kandros stared at the live security cam footage. Three human individuals in the Welcome Hall. He had never seen the three before, and he had a good memory.

He commed the team. "Resume patrol, Toombs. I'll deal with it."

"Havok, notify Tann and the others." The approximation of a smile appeared on Kandros' face; the sergeant couldn't really tell, but damn, an Ark was finally here? After all this time? He brought up comms to the Director with an enthusiasm Kandros had never seen before.

"Aye, chief!"

* * *

"… _any physical or psychological aftereffects you may be experiencing._ "

"Well, she's got the date right, at least."

"So… where is everyone? That's all, Avina."

" _It has been my pleasure. Please see one of our helpful immigration staff for further assistance. And welcome to our new home in Andromeda, where the brightest star is you!_ "

Lieutenant Harper snorted. "Right. That was helpful."

Jon was casting his eyes around the darkened hall as Sara and the lieutenant had been speaking to Avina. It was jarring, the cheerfulness of the V.I. against the near-silence of the immediate area. It was as if no one was around. The hairs on Jon's neck stood on end; he wished he had his Talon on him. All he had was his titanium blade, strapped to his left forearm under his omnitool and sleeve, and an omniblade hidden in his right boot. It wasn't as large as the ones flash-forged by omnitools, but a small blade in the right place could mean the difference between life and death.

He wandered back to the console through which he'd activated the hall's power. He was expecting the entire hall to light up, but instead only the emergency floor strip lights had gone online, faint illumination bathing the floor in pale white. He checked the console; power rationing was in effect, set in place by Nexus Superintendent Nakmor Kesh. A quick dive into the systems gave him more information: Jon's eyes widened as he checked Utilities. Half of the station's power generators were red-flagged as either damaged or destroyed. That was why power rationing was in place, generation was halved.

 _What could have caused something like that?_

Sara looked around. The welcome hall's appearance belied its name: it was still dark, despite Jon switching on the power. Initiative crates lay about, tops off, their contents – raw metal blocks, insulated wire sets, technicians' toolkits – strewn about on the floor, on other crates, on the planters, next to dry husks of small trees, fallen leaves shrivelled and crunchy underfoot. She spotted at least two support frames, the frames towering above them, disappearing into the dark; the ceiling was too high up for the weak light to reach. Power cables lay in coils on the floor, some undulating, snaking through the mess to disappear into power junctions set into a far wall.

Cora voiced what Sara was thinking. "It's like they didn't finish building it."

Avina stood behind them, her holographic hands on holographic hips, facing the entrances to the Arks, welcoming visitors to the Nexus warmly, with a smile and a calm voice. The welcome was lost on Sara, though; the entire situation felt foreboding, as if something bad had happened here.

For a moment she wondered if they had stumbled upon a dead space station, no one alive on board. She imagined the three of them stumbling upon dead bodies soon enough, dried blood pooling on the floor, her voice echoing off walls and into the deep dark, no response. She imagined monsters stumbling out the murk at them, teeth bared, bloody, clawed hands reaching for them, their inhuman shrieks –

Sara recoiled violently as Jon touched her on the arm. Her heart thumping, lowering her hands from where she'd thrown them up, she whispered, "What is it?"

He pointed. "Someone's coming."

* * *

"I don't believe it."

A turian was coming their way, his voice carrying across the empty space easily. Sara stepped forward, shaking the turian's outstretched hand. _Finally, a friendly face!_

"I'm Tiran Kandros. I lead our militia here on the Nexus."

"I'm Sara Ryder. This is Cora Harper and Jonathan Walker, part of the Pathfinder team."

The turian gestured to the darkness around them. "Well, it doesn't look like much, but welcome to the Nexus. It wouldn't be a stretch to say things have gone horribly wrong when we arrived in Andromeda. This way. I'll brief you on the way to the Ops Center."

Sara's spirits had lifted on seeing the turian, but the weary way in which he spoke dampened them. Something was indeed wrong with the Nexus, and it was bad. Kandros led them across the darkened hall, the strip lights guiding them to another tram that would take them to the Nexus proper.

"Sorry for the confusion. Our sensors told us an Ark had arrived, but Heleus is notorious for scrambling equipment. We thought you were just another malfunction."

"But… aren't you expecting us?" queried Sara.

Kandros gave a noncommittal shrug. "You're the first Ark we've seen. After a year of waiting and no sign of the others, we shuttered this area and stopped looking."

"A whole year?" Cora was incredulous. "What happened to the other Arks? The Leusinia?"

"Longer. And no word from the Leusinia, or the Paarchero, or the Natanus. Nothing. Everything that could go wrong with our plan, has. We arrived fourteen months ago. Right away we hit a band of dark energy that knocked us off-course."

"We're familiar with it," nodded Sara.

"Then you'll know why we call it the 'Scourge.' We lost whole sections of the station. A lot of people died. No power. No food. The chaos went on for months."

Kandros selected OPS CENTER on the tram's destination screen: the door slid shut, and the tram began to move. "Finally, we had an armed rebellion. When order was restored, the insurgents were banished. 'Exiles', we call them."

"Are things back to normal?" asked Cora.

"Not even close. But you're here now, so maybe the worst is over. Thank the spirits."

"We had a first contact situation with some aliens on Habitat 7. Whole thing went south. They tried to kill us. No word of warning, just shoot-on-sight."

Kandros bared his teeth at the screen, an imaginary foe in his mind's eye. "That wasn't first contact. We knew about them," he paused, tapping at something on his omnitool. "Those aliens are going to be a real problem. So far we've stayed hidden. We're in no shape to deal with an attack."

"This day just keeps getting better," mumbled Jon morosely.

* * *

"You should know our command structure has been fractured," Kandros continued as they disembarked from the tram. "Some of us are filling in for leaders who died."

Sara stumbled as a Nexus crew member shouldered past her roughly. Jon's hand was on her arm instantly, keeping her stable, as he threw a dirty look at the crew member, who was oblivious, running full-tilt, hand to his ear. "Drop everything and report for duty, team! The Hyperion is here!"

"And no one was expecting an Ark to finally show up," added Kandros dryly as he led them up an incline. A blue-white light fell on Sara's face as they ascended the last steps and came into the Ops Center. Several more Nexus crew members rushed past them, the last one nearly tripping on the topmost step.

"Woah."

The far wall comprised exclusively of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering everyone in the room a panoramic view of the unfinished second Ward. There were perhaps twenty people on this level, some at their stations, speaking into their comm units, some rushing to be at their stations, others descending steps to the lower levels of the Center. The main console here was easily five meters long, crewed by a half-dozen Nexus personnel. They swiped and tapped at holos, calling out updates.

"Docking procedures are now in effect, green across the board."

"Stand by to merge Hyperion power into the grid."

Three individuals detached themselves from the throng of personnel, coming towards them. Sara recognized Director of Colonial Affairs Foster Addison, and Superintendent Nakmor Kesh. The third, a salarian, she did not recognize. It was the salarian who came up to them first, rubbing his hands together, Addison and Kesh hanging back.

"The crew of the Hyperion…"

That voice was one Jon had heard many times before, the same type possessed by bureaucrats, Alliance higher-ups, and politicians. How many times he'd heard that voice, tinny but recognizable, blaring from an ancient television set that Chester owned, promising more funds to make life better in the slums? How many times he'd heard that voice telling him things they thought he wanted to hear, post-Akuze, then giving him the shaft? It was a voice that caused him to distrust the person it came out of immediately, and so far his gut hadn't let him down.

This salarian, he didn't like.

Kandros shifted next to him, turning. He patted Sara on the back. "Good luck."

 _Seems like I'm not the only one, then_ , Jon mused, as Sara cast a bewildered gaze at the turian's retreating back.

The salarian spoke. "I'm Jarun Tann, Director of the Initiative. You have no idea how much your arrival means to us."

 _Director? Isn't Jien Garson the –_

Sara straightened. "We've heard about what happened. We're ready to help."

Jon didn't know the woman with short red hair; she spoke up. "We could use any supplies you have. Food, water..."

Lieutenant Harper sidled up next to him. "Foster Addison. She oversees Colonial Affairs," whispered the lieutenant. She must have seen the look of on his face, not knowing anyone in the room. "The krogan's Superintendent Nakmor Kesh."

"Thanks, LT," he whispered back.

The salarian looked about the three of them, as though expecting to find someone hiding behind Jon or Lieutenant Harper. "Where's the Pathfinder?"

Sara took a breath. "You're looking at her, Director Tann."

"You're not Alec Ryder," Tann responded, crossing his arms, frowning.

"My father's dead. He made me his successor."

The words hung in the air for a moment. Jon could see the changes in facial expression as both Tann and Addison absorbed the news. Addison spoke first.

"Alec… is dead?"

Tann was still blinking, his lips parted slightly. Addison lowered her face, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Please understand. The entire Initiative is at risk," Addison said, her voice strained. She gestured, leading them over to a console. She brought up a holo that Jon recognized: the seven Golden Worlds, each a sphere, rotating slowly, their designation underneath each sphere, Habitats 1 to 7.

All seven spheres were an ominous shade of red.

"None of the Golden Worlds panned out. None. They're a bust, and there's been no word from the other Arks."

Tann picked up the narrative as Addison massaged her forehead with the heel of a hand. "We don't know what happened to the other Arks. Our supplies are nearly depleted. Rationing bought us some time, but even that's running out."

Jon dropped his gaze to the floor. _Shit._ He thought things were already bad enough on the Hyperion, with Alec Ryder dead, and Habitat 7 not the Golden World they were expecting. Now _all_ of the Golden Worlds were a bust? And the other Arks never made it to the Nexus? And now the Nexus was about to starve. Thousands of people, tens of thousands including those still in cryo. And to think he was worried about Sara being mad at him. This was a problem bigger than any he'd ever had in his life so far.

What was Sara getting into?

What was _he_ getting into?

* * *

Sara's heart sank as Addison and Tann delivered the news. Kandros' account of events seemed bad enough, but now there were no Golden Worlds?

Addison continued. "We need to find more resources. But that takes people, and we can't wake them up."

The realization hit Sara; that was why the Nexus leadership was expecting Dad, not her. "Until they have somewhere to live. A Golden World."

Addison nodded. "Now, more than ever, we _need_ a Pathfinder."

In a split-second, connect-the-dots moment, Sara understood what needed to be done. With no one else having the ability to find a Golden World and resources at an all-time low, she needed to do something as the only Pathfinder the Nexus had right now, with thousands of lives on the line, tens of thousands if the people in cryo were included. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, all those lives on her shoulders.

 _How would Dad react to this situation?_

Sara could imagine that Dad would have waded right into it, rolling his sleeves up. But she wasn't Alec Ryder. She didn't have his skills, his expertise, his experience. He was N7, and an A.I. researcher. Sara Ryder was a former marine who simply loved alien culture, and by extension, archaeology. She had almost zero knowledge on how to be a Pathfinder.

Dad always said something back in training, when Sara was on the verge of giving up. What was it?

 _Alec patted his daughter's shoulder as she pushed herself up from the dirt, tears streaking her face. "Dad, I can't, I can't, it's too far."_

" _Sara, nothing in this universe is ever too far to reach, too difficult to overcome. You're a Ryder. We never give up," said Dad, his voice low in her ear. "Remember, Sara,_ when your back's against the wall, if you can't run from it, use it _."_

Sara closed her eyes. _Dad._ He wouldn't have passed the title of Pathfinder to her if he thought she couldn't handle it. She cannot, she will not let him down now. She was at least going to try.

"It now falls to you, Ryder. Are you up to the task?" asked Director Tann.

* * *

 _It was one of those moments that everyone would remember, even if nothing significant happened. Merely words were spoken, but the weight of the words, the meaning behind them, would shape the future. As Director Jarun Tann's question faded into the air, the one they called Sara Ryder, human Pathfinder, her eyes burning, her jaw set, shoulders squared, the very epitome of determination, spoke._

" _I may not have been the first choice, but I'm ready for this."_

* * *

Jon exhaled. He was sure the entire room was holding its breath as Sara looked up, fire in her eyes, and spoke with such confidence. In that moment, Jon could see Alec Ryder in Sara, the same determination, the same fire. His fists tightened, a shiver running down his spine. It was an indescribable feeling that passed over him at that moment, but he remembered it very well, as he looked back at this moment later.

Beside him, Lieutenant Harper looked like she was moved by Sara's words as well, shifting from foot to foot. "She's… got guts, I'll give her that," she whispered to Jon, catching him watching her. He nodded.

The moment was perfect. Would have been perfect. Everyone could feel the magic in the air as Sara nodded, as if reaffirming what she'd just said. The magic that allowed their worries to fade away for a while; a Pathfinder was here. Things are going to be okay.

"Youthful enthusiasm can only get you so far in Andromeda, Ryder."

This came from Addison, who crossed her arms, her eyes shooting daggers, unmoved. Jon was content to remain neutral about the Director of Colonial Affairs, but now he revised his estimate of her. He almost retorted, a choice curse already on his tongue. Who the hell was Addison to simply brush Sara's determination aside like that?

He was beaten to the punch. A deep, gravelly voice spoke.

"That's no way to treat a guest, Addison."

Superintendent Nakmor Kesh stepped forward. Jon noticed that Tann seemed to be afraid of her, maintaining his distance, a forced smile on his face as he made way for her to speak.

"I'm Nakmor Kesh, Pathfinder Ryder. Nexus Superintendent. I hope these two," She waved in Addison and Tann's direction. "Haven't scared you off already."

"It's nothing personal, but now's not the time for on-the-job training," said Addison sharply. What she said was a perfect summary for Sara's insecurity about her new role. Sara averted her gaze, hoping no one saw her moment of weakness.

"At least the Pathfinder here seems willing to try. We could use a fresh perspective, Addison," rumbled Kesh, not backing down.

Addison shifted uneasily. "You've heard my concerns, Kesh." She looked at Sara, the corner of her mouth twitching. "I'll leave you to it."

Addison turned and walked away. Tann broke the uncomfortable silence. "We're all feeling the pressure." He rubbed his hands together.

"Let's have a private word in my office, Ryder. We'll discuss giving you a scout ship."

Sara inhaled and nodded. "Alright, Director. Lead the way."

"One moment, Pathfinder," Kesh held up a hand. "May I borrow this engineer of yours?"

* * *

Sara started, Kesh's request catching her off-guard. The Superintendent _knew_ Jon?

"Good to see you again, Superintendent," Jon inclined his head, his tone respectful. "Things don't seem to be going well so far."

"An understatement. But with the Hyperion and Pathfinder Ryder here, I think we'll begin to turn things around," replied Kesh. "Ryder, hope's in short supply here. What little we can find should have a chance to bloom."

Kesh motioned to the windows; Sara noticed that lights were coming on slowly in the Second Ward. "See that? An hour ago, that was all dark. But with the power from your ship, you're keeping the lights on. You have my vote."

"And Jon?"

Kesh grunted. "He didn't tell you? Before your father picked him up for Pathfinder training, Walker was in my department; he's quite handy with electrical systems. I have a small problem with the power grid, Ryder. I was hoping that Walker could assist me in solving it."

"Pathfinder, with your permission?" Jon was looking at her in earnest.

On one hand, it would be odd not to have Jon by her side, after becoming accustomed to his presence on Habitat 7. On the other, they all had duties to attend to, to keep everything moving, and if Jon could do some good helping the Superintendent, and the Nexus as a whole…

Sara hesitated. Should she give orders, now she was the Pathfinder? Kesh looked at her expectantly, waiting for the Pathfinder's decision.

Sara nodded tightly. "Go ahead, Jon. Report to me once you're done. Take good care of him, Superintendent."

"Roger that, Pathfinder."

"Don't worry, Pathfinder. I won't destroy what I need."

Tann was waiting for her and Cora, huffing exasperatedly at the delay.

* * *

"How are things with the Pathfinder team, Walker?"

Jon shrugged. "Could have been better. Alec Ryder's death was a serious blow to us all."

"You were on Habitat 7?"

Jon nodded. "Place was a death trap. Random lightning strikes all over the land, floating mountains, and those damned aliens and their guns."

Kesh grunted. "Sounds wonderful. They're called 'kett'. I don't know who named them, but the name had stuck. Kandros fought them before; you can speak with him later to learn more. You're still up on your electrical systems?"

"I'm good, Superintendent. Point me to the problem."

Kesh punched him gently in the shoulder; Jon's fingers went numb. "Stop it with the 'Superintendent' crap, Walker. Thought I told you to just call me 'Kesh' before Alec pried you from my grasp," she smiled at him, her teeth visible under drawn-back lips.

Jon grinned, squeezing some feeling back into his arm. It was good to see a familiar face, banter with someone he knew from before. "Alright, alright, Kesh. What's the problem?"

Kesh accessed a console, her fingers flying across the keys. Jon drew closer to inspect the holo Kesh pulled up, both of them now in serious mode, talking engineering.

"We're having power fluctuations, no thanks to damage to the generators from the uprising. Kandros tell you anything about the uprising? He has? Good. Don't have to waste my breath then. Well, during the uprising, some knucklehead from my clan decided to take a krogan hammer to my generators. I've engineers and technicians repairing the damage, and we had to push the undamaged generators to their limits to keep up with the demand."

Kesh sighed. "The problem is that we've been having multiple instances of junction panels malfunctioning, sometimes going offline, sometimes exploding, all thanks to those overclocked generators." She pointed out several red flags marked throughout Decks 18, 24 and 25 of the Nexus. "One of my technicians, Raj Patil, was replacing parts at one of these panels when it exploded. Nearly lost his arms. He's been paranoid ever since, refuses to come to work. Do you mind if you could cover the last few panels he was supposed to work on?"

"Sure thing, Kesh. Just send me a list."

"Thanks, Walker," Kesh laid a hand on Jon's arm. "We're running short on everything here, even skilled personnel. I owe you a drink for this."

"Hey, it isn't a big deal, Kesh. Don't worry about it," Jon reassured the Superintendent, rubbing the back of his neck. He never liked it when people say they owed him something.

"Here, I've signed out a technician's kit for you to use. Though I doubt you need it, given what you can pull off with those hands of yours."

"You flatter me, you know that, Kesh?"

"Ha. Get moving, Walker."

* * *

Sara crossed her arms, her headache threatening to return full force. "I thought I didn't measure up as Pathfinder," she said accusingly. She didn't like the tone Director Addison took when Sara had shown that she was ready to be a Pathfinder, and the way Tann kept his silence suggested he was of the same opinion.

Director Tann pursed his lips. "Director Addison keeps her own counsel. I keep mine."

Sara's eyes narrowed. "And when you disagree?"

"I oversee the entire Initiative, and I have decided to give you a chance to prove yourself," said the Director, carefully deflecting Sara's question. "To that end, the Scourge dealt us a serious blow. Whatever it is, our scientists theorize it's not natural."

"An artificial energy cloud?" asked Cora.

"Well, it wasn't here when we left the Milky Way. Yet, it rendered all the Golden Worlds unlivable. Then, there's the aliens you ran into, the kett. They're obsessed with alien structures we've found scattered around the cluster."

"We've been in one of those structures on Habitat 7. They seem to have the power to change the weather," said Sara. "And the aliens weren't too happy we were there."

"They'll do anything to prevent others from accessing them," agreed Tann. "And now the challenge is to settle a world in spite of all that. This one here – Eos."

Tann brought up a holo of the planet Eos. Habitat 1. Sara activated her omnitool, channeling the data from Tann's console into her own omnitool. "Sam, download the full info packet to the Hyperion."

" _Yes, Pathfinder_."

"How do you propose we settle Eos, Director Tann?"

"You need to increase the viability of the planet so we can establish an outpost. Then we can bring more colonists out of stasis. The more colonists we have, the more resources we can gather to support the Nexus."

Tann rubbed his hands together. It seemed to be his habit.

"Everything depends on it. There are six worlds we hope to settle."

"Okay…" Sara felt the need to point out the obvious. It was as if the Director had missed the biggest problem of all, one mentioned earlier in the Ops Center. "But you said every planet you found is unlivable. So how do I…"

"A good Pathfinder would relish the challenge of solving it," Tann looked her square in the eye, unsmiling.

 _Great._

* * *

Panel C-43-A. Jon reached into the technician's kit, affixing a surge detector on the 'incoming' wiring, activating it, a circular yellow holo rising from the device.

He commed Kesh. "Kesh, kill power to panel C-43-A, will you?"

" _Done._ "

The surge detector now showed a green holo. No power. All clear.

Kesh told him this was one of the malfunctioning ones; a shower of fragments of melted plastic rained over his boots as he pulled the access hatch open. He inspected each part carefully, not touching anything. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just a simple overload in a minor junction. He needed ten minutes, tops, to deal with this.

Jon wriggled on technician's gloves and got to work, stripping out a mess of melted-together wiring, noting their insertion points. He disabled the mass effect fields holding the converter in place, tugging the heavy box out from its shelf.

Something bothered him, though, something he noticed about the damage.

 _Scorch marks? The explosion from the overload._

 _But aren't they in the wrong place, if_ that's _the part that blew up?_

He brushed a finger across the scorch marks. Fine black powder. He held his palm over the powder, activating his scanner. It told him there was a minute quantity of eezo in it. Jon swept his scanner around the inside of the panel. There was eezo everywhere, even in the melted plastic.

Jon retreated hurriedly, reaching into the technician's kit and sealing a hazard mask around his face. He hoped he hadn't inhaled any of the particles. He commed Kesh.

"Kesh? We have a bigger problem. Panel C-43-A? It's not an overload. Someone planted an implosion charge here; I recognize the scorch marks, and there's eezo in the debris. Someone tried to sabotage this panel."

* * *

Sara sighed loudly as the doors to Tann's 'office' – it was barely a closet – closed behind her, a slow throb in her right temple. Tann had sent Cora to liaise with one of his subordinates, who was trying to wrangle up an Initiative Scout Ship for them. She was all alone, in a space station she felt like was becoming more and more unfriendly by the minute. The news that Jien Garson was dead was a surprise to her, but it made sense; the Scourge hit the Nexus harder than the Hyperion. Tann had shown her the statistics and records on his console: hundreds of Scourge casualties, Garson amongst them.

At least she'd finished speaking to the Director, and got her mission parameters. Go to Eos, establish a successful outpost there, remove the kett threat, and walk on water. Well, maybe not that last one, but the way Tann gave her her instructions, Sara felt as if he was asking for a goddamned miracle.

"Ryder."

Sara closed her eyes. _Goddammit_. Can't she catch a break?

The Director of Colonial Affairs was waiting outside Tann's office to ambush her.

* * *

"You sure about this?" asked Kesh, her helmet on, as she peered into the panel. Her own scans confirmed Jon's assessment.

"Alec Ryder and I worked with them, seeing if they can be used for military purposes. That mark over there, see it? That's from the initial flash-detonate. The access hatch contained the implosion. Your man, Patil, probably had the skin on his arms flayed off; an implosion charge detonating can be mistaken for an explosion. A small one."

Kesh grimaced. "Painful. Crap. Now I'm wondering if the other malfunctions are really malfunctions, or sabotage by this clanless bastard." She growled.

"Do you want me to check the other panels too?"

"As much as I hate putting you in danger, Walker, we really have no choice. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Kesh. Long as I'm wearing this protective equipment, I'm fine. This is pretty serious, someone sabotaging the systems. You want to bring this up with Security?"

"If you can find out who's doing this, I'll inform Kandros personally." Kesh growled again, slamming a fist into the wall, which dented. "Damn it. Bastard wants to kill us all."

* * *

"He hated that I didn't use his title. But no one's a Pathfinder until they've path _found_ something. Much like a Colonial Director without colonies."

Sara grimaced at Addison's use of the unusual word. If it even was a word. She changed the subject; when it came to Dad, she was still feeling uncomfortable talking about him.

"Was there some kind of plan for encountering hostile aliens? We can't have been that naïve."

"We expected life, not an enemy that refuses to talk. They don't attack – they disinfect. We're nothing until we're bacteria."

Sara raised an eyebrow. Addison sure had an odd choice of vocabulary.

The Director must have heard her think; she wiped a hand across her face, exhaling. "Sorry. Fourteen months and you stoop to poetry. That's how bad it is. They're called 'kett.' Not sure who started calling them that. Kandros will know more." She paused. "Maybe too much."

"You don't trust him?"

Addison pursed her lips. "I trust him to defend us. I do not trust a rising military influence in a supposedly civilian Initiative. We came here to make history, Ryder. Not repeat it."

Addison slapped herself on the forehead. "Ugh. Goddamn poetry."

Sara wondered how long more she could stand Addison's 'poetry.' She'd been grilling Sara for close to an hour now.

* * *

"Kesh, any idea who worked on these panels?" asked Jon as he swept Panel P-32-D on Deck 18 with a handheld particle rod. He collected roughly five grams of fine powder containing eezo, depositing them into a hazard bin. Off-duty personnel watched him work, maintaining their distance after he warned them of 'possible explosions'.

Best to keep the real situation dark for now.

" _Hm. Besides Raj, there's…_ " a pause as Kesh checked her logs on her console back in Ops Center. " _Zarah Kellus. She was Raj's work buddy. She accessed… all of them, three weeks back._ "

Jon gave a low whistle. "She might be the one."

" _Or Raj himself. He worked on them last week, before he got his arms injured. He also worked on all of them. Walker. No one else has touched them._ "

"Too little info to go on, Kesh. Anything else we can pull from the logs?"

" _I'm going to speak to Zarah. Make it look like I'm collecting reports. I'll let you know if I find anything odd. In the meantime, keep recording anything you find, and complete Raj's task. If we're going to nail this bastard to the wall, I want every nail you can get your hands on, Walker._ "

"You and me both, Kesh. Situation's bad enough as it is."

Jon worked swiftly, clearing the rest of the panels he had to work on of eezo residue, replacing damaged components, and converting salvageable material into omnigel; he could feed it into a fabricator later. He scanned each panel thoroughly, making sure to catch all the details he could with his omnitool.

He was working on the last panel when Jon felt a tap on his shoulder. "Excuse me, technician?"

Jon carefully severed a cable, cutting away a damaged part with his omnitool's point welder function, not an easy task. At least, that's what it looked like he was doing. Only then did he straighten, turning. The man behind him was in full Initiative armor, an Avenger in his left hand.

Jon waved at him to back away, his voice muffled by the hazard mask. "Sorry, sir, please step back. There may be explosions. The system's unstable as it is."

The man wasn't wearing a protective breather. Jon cursed silently.

"No, I'm afraid you're the one who needs to stop work here, technician. Kandros' orders," said the man, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "Pack up and leave. I'll take it from here."

Jon removed his gloves, tossing them aside. He didn't like the way this Security man was treating him, and from his body language, Jon could tell he was the 'swing first, questions later' sort of person. And he was toting an assault rifle. At this distance, almost point-blank range, Jon's personal kinetic barriers, the base unit built into his belt at the small of his back, would be useless.

However, this man was acting suspiciously. Kesh didn't notify Jon about Kandros asking him to stop work. In fact, what he was doing wasn't under Kandros' authority. Jon crossed his arms, eyes flicking up and down the intruder, an advantage, his face obscured by the hazard mask. He didn't want to get dirty with a fully armored and armed hostile, but he would fight if it meant his life.

Jon breathed deeply. _Prepare for all scenarios, all unforeseen consequences_ , as Ryder reminded him in training.

"I didn't get the notice, Officer…?"

The Security man hefted his assault rifle. "My name's above your pay grade, technician. I won't repeat myself. Out. Now."

There were five Nexus personnel witnessing the standoff, all behind this officer, in a rough semicircle around them. Jon hoped they were smart enough to hit the deck if things got serious. At least they were cautious, keeping behind the hololines he set up before he started work, CAUTION and DANGER scrolling across their digitized surfaces. This fellow stepped right past all the lines, coming in close.

"Call Superintendent Kesh, _Officer_. I don't think Kandros is my boss. Yours, maybe. My boss is Kesh. I will not move unless she tells me to."

The officer's eye twitched. "Why you little…"

Jon knew exactly what he was about to do, this officer. An assault rifle in his hands, civilians in the vicinity. He would either bring his gun up, aiming at Jon to get him to shut up and follow orders, or he would bring his gun up to smash Jon's face with its butt, also to get him to shut up and follow orders. Jon was certain this officer was the sort who liked to show dominance, to hit someone to prove a point, judging by his choice of words.

He would smash Jon with the butt of his rifle.

Jon bent his knees, ducking, the butt swinging by where his head was. He then pushed himself up hard, his soles against the floor, his right hand extended, palm up.

The guard barely registered that he'd missed Jon when a flash of white and pain erupted in his chin, the heel of Jon's palm colliding hard with it. He tottered, assault rifle clattering to the floor, falling backwards on his ass as he shook his head to try to clear the tears in his eyes from the pain. Jon kicked the rifle aside, two Nexus personnel hurriedly getting out of the way. No one wanted to be close to an instrument of death.

He rose to his feet slowly, spitting a gob of blood and saliva on the floor; Jon was fairly certain he had bitten his tongue. The Nexus personnel had all backed away by then, leaving a clear space. Jon's breathing was level, his eyes bright as he adopted a ready stance, waiting. The officer charged him, right fist leading, but he was too reliant on brute force, mind clouded by anger and humiliation, never thinking that by sidestepping at the last moment and a gentle tug on his right arm, Jon could pull him off balance and onto the ground once more.

This time though, the guard's forehead bounced off the floor. He didn't try to get up this time.

Jon commed Kesh, his eyes on the officer. He was fairly certain this officer was trying to get him to leave the panel so that he could finish planting the last implosion charge; this panel was a major one, linking three life-support modules together with tributaries to the Nexus' navigation system. Jon had found the half-assembled implosion charge magnetically attached to the bottom of the converter; the charge's external shell was in place, leaving only the primer core of eezo and the detonator to be added to the shell.

"Kesh? I just got assaulted by a Security officer."

" _Damn. You hurt?_ "

"Negative."

" _I'm on my way with Kandros. Stay put._ "

"I'ma… 'ma… kill yah," slurred the officer. He tried to push himself up, but just as he got his legs under him, he fell on his side, groaning. Out for the count. None of the Nexus personnel moved to help the officer, their eyes on Jon instead, wary at the sudden episode of violence that had erupted in front of them.

He raised a hand. "Uh. You all saw that right? He attacked me first."

Two of the personnel nodded. At least someone was on his side.

"Walker!"

Kesh and Kandros jogged towards him; Kandros was flanked by two of his men, armored, their rifles folded away on their backs. "Clear the place, people, nothing here to see," he said, waving a hand. "Just a little workplace dispute."

The hallway emptied. Kesh waited until they were truly alone before she approached Jon. "You alright, Walker?"

He gave her a thumbs-up. "I'm good, Kesh. Can't say the same for him, though," he gestured to the officer, still flat on the floor, moaning softly. "Concussion, and possibly bit his tongue."

Jon pointed to the panel. "This panel's fine. But I found this," he handed the krogan the shell of the implosion charge. Kesh held it gingerly in her fingers, studying the object. "Still lacks the primer and detonator, though. It's harmless."

"Spirits…" Kandros was aghast. "An implosion charge. Atkins, explain yourself. You were supposed to be off duty."

Atkins mumbled something, incoherent. Kandros nodded at his men; they each reached under an arm, lifting Atkins up. "Put him in the box for now, Clem, until this whole thing is sorted out."

"Understood, Director."

"Now then," Kandros faced Jon, hands on his hips. "What in the name of the spirits is going on here?"

* * *

"Excuse me, Director Addison."

"Ryder."

Sara tried to correct her. "It's 'Pathfinder.'"

" _Ryder_. We're starving here. If we don't get a foundation of outposts to feed the Initiative, we might as well be six hundred years dead. Alec promised a lot. None of it panned out."

Addison's voice grated on Sara's nerves; her headache had worsened as she listened to Addison ramble on and on. Her goddamn 'poetry.' Right now, all Sara wanted was a warm bunk and a painkiller tablet.

"That's what you're up against. Why people won't trust you. Why I don't trust you."

Addison pointed her chin at Sara. Challenging her. "Prove me wrong."

Addison was right, Sara determined later. But that didn't make her any less of a bitch. And Sara rarely swore. It's the headache.

* * *

"Forgery," said Sergeant Havok as he compared the data Jon had collected, along with Zarah Kellus' and Raj Patil's own logs, the two technicians waiting outside Security HQ. He pointed at several lines of code on his screen. "Right here. Someone hacked into their omnitools, copied their logs over, then overwrote data to try and implicate each other as the saboteur." He rotated in his seat to face Kandros. "Boss, the proof checks out."

Kandros sighed. One of his own men. Atkins has a lot to answer for.

"Am I free to go, Director?" asked Jon. He was back in Initiative civvies, leaning against the wall, waiting for Kandros to release him after handing over all of the data from his scans. He felt his eyelids droop. He'd been up for too long.

"Yes you are, Walker. Thank you. You've just saved the Nexus," Kandros declared, holding a hand out. "Right now we need to band together, not cause trouble over events past."

"True, Director," Jon shook the turian's hand. "Kesh?"

"Thanks for your help, Walker. Go get some sleep before you fall over."

"Will do, Superintendent."

"Walker…"

"Kesh, Kesh, right. I'm going."

* * *

Sara meandered through the atrium, rubbing her temple. Cora was still speaking to whoever it was Tann assigned to rustle up Pathfinder equipment for them. And Jon was still helping out Superintendent Kesh with her problem, whatever it was. Sara was glad for the krogan's support in front of Tann and Addison; she wasn't certain she would be able to put up the front much longer, her muscles tight, her blood rising. She was willing to at least try to be the Pathfinder. And they were treating her as if she were a rookie fresh out of Basic.

"Credit for your thoughts?"

Sara half-turned her head. "Look, whoever you are, I've had quite a bad d– Jon?"

The combat engineer winked, falling into step beside her. "Hey, Sara. I leave you for a few, and you're already having a bad day. What gives?"

Sara punched Jon in the arm. "Plenty. None of them good, unfortunately."

They walked in silence for a while. Though unexpected, Sara was glad Jon was back at her side. She needed someone she knew right now, even if it was someone who was a little awkward at expressing himself.

"You look terrible, Sara," he said, after a few steps, the humor fading from his face, concern in his eyes. "They didn't torture you too badly, I hope?"

Sara shook her head, wishing that the headache would go down already; she could feel the throbbing in her temples in time with her heartbeat. "They did. Addison's the worst. _Fucking_ poetry. Ugh, my head."

Jon blinked, startled at the coarse language. Not that he wasn't used to such curses, he didn't expect it coming from Sara. She seemed so nice. And what did she mean by poetry? Did Addison recite _poetry_ , of all things, to Sara? It didn't make a shred of sense.

"Headache?"

"Yeah. Been getting worse since we docked. Think I'll get some sleep on the Hyperion."

"Great minds think alike. Me too. I'm knackered."

"So… what did the Superintendent want from you?"

Jon shrugged. "Nothing big. Just some malfunctioning power panels."

He liked keeping things simple, Jon, Sara noticed. Except when it came to Dad. It was surprising, the amount of emotion that meeting had. A little weird too, since Sara hardly knew Jon, and there he was, awkwardly trying to explain the situation, certain that he caused Dad's death. But the both of them came out from the meeting knowing each other a little better, the camaraderie formed on the surface of Habitat 7 strengthening. He almost felt like an old friend now.

Except that Sara still didn't know much about him.

"What about you, Sara? Did Tann say anything about the whole Initiative-is-about-to-collapse situation?"

"He's fitting us out with a scout ship. We're going to Eos, Jonathan."

She smiled at him in spite of the discomfort. "We're going to make things better for everyone. You ready?"

Jon inclined his head, smiling, his eyes a nice oak brown, she noticed. "Whenever you are, Pathfinder. Lead the way.


	14. Preparations

_Her eyes were the most beautiful he'd ever seen. Everything about her was beautiful, but the first thing that came to mind, whenever he thought about her, was her eyes. Amethyst, a color he'd come to associate with her whenever he saw it. Those were the eyes of kindness, of compassion, traits that were lacking amongst his peers in the gang, a hard life._

 _Her lips curled slowly into an O, her eyes widening in surprise as he pulled out the small_ penzai _from behind his back. He shifted slightly, abashed at her gaze, holding it out. "It… isn't much, but... I hope you like it, Ka'aira. Happy birthday."_

 _Her perfume wafted over him as she stepped closer, a natural flowery scent made from the plants she grew herself. Felt a thrill as her fingers brushed his, receiving her gift, examining it._

 _But she said nothing._

 _Worry began tugging at him. What if it was too ugly? He used real wood for the tiny tree, fashioned the leaves out of scrap metal, the lacquer on the rusted pieces giving the leaves an almost lifelike appearance. She preferred the real thing, real plants, dammit, he should have gone and found a small plant or something, but he'd gifted her that for the past two years now -_

 _"It's beautiful, Jon."_

 _He found himself gazing into her eyes, her amethyst eyes, which disappeared behind delicate eyelids as she smiled her gorgeous smile, soft as it was._

 _"You made it yourself?"_

 _He nodded numbly. "I… I…"_

 _She pressed a finger gently against his lips. The contact sent shivers down his spine. "Shh. I love it, Jon. Thank you."_

 _Happiness bloomed in his heart as he heard the words, and he grinned foolishly. "It's beautiful… like you, Ka'aira."_

 _She smiled again. "Thank you, Jon. That's very kind of you."_

 _Her eyes . He could get lost in those eyes forever, forget that he was just a slum rat, forget that this life even existed. She was so kind to him, sharing her experiences, letting him into her life, and her into his._

 _He averted his gaze, face burning, but still smiling like an idiot._

 _When he turned back to look at her, his face bruised, his cheek throbbing from the punch, he beheld Ka'aira's eyes once more. Only this time, instead of the warmth he'd come to expect, to get lost in, her eyes were cold, empty. He found himself flinching at the difference. Why was his vision so dark around the edges? And why did he hurt all over?_

 _Then he lowered his gaze, and screamed as the hand holding onto Ka'aira's scalp crests dropped her severed head into his lap, her blood warm on his thighs._

 _The smell of Ka'aira's blood made his head swim._

 _Warm blood on his thighs, his face. The ultimatum still ringing in his ears, Chester urging him, "Do it, Jon! Get out of here, make something of yourself! Do it. DO IT YOU FUCKING COWARD. PULL THE FUCKING TRIGGER!"_

 _His hand shaking, breaths loud in his ears, the cold muzzle of a gun against his head, he felt, mechanically, his finger begin to tighten on the pistol's trigger, Chester's eyes encouraging. "It's okay, Jon. It's okay. Leave this place, don't come back. I'm proud to call myself your brothe-"_

Jon opened his eyes at the shot.

 _Take care of her for me._ The whisper echoed around the inside of his head. _  
_

For a moment, he forgot where he was, the room's lights coming on automatically, a soft glow. So much white everywhere, plain.

His heart was thumping, his hair drenched in sweat. He fought free of the blanket that covered him, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, his memories of the past few hours returning as he gripped his hair in his fists, pressing his forehead against his knees, gritting his teeth.

That same fucking nightmare again. Even here in Andromeda, he couldn't escape it. And now he's hearing Alec Ryder's voice too. How many deaths had he caused?

Jon sprang up from his bunk, shucking his jumpsuit top. _Cut off the thought, before it gains momentum. Find something to do, keep your hands busy._

Dr. Lexi taught him that.

 _Take care of her for me._

* * *

THUD.

"Hey, watch it!"

The human deckhand, wide-eyed at his fortune, backed away slowly from the crate. She sighed and went over to the fallen crate, lifting it herself easily as though it weighed nothing. "You can't handle the weight, just say so. You could have gotten hurt badly, you know?"

"Yes ma'am! Sorry, ma'am!"

Young, even by human standards, the boy's face peppered with week-old stubble. She shook her head, gesturing with her chin. "Head over to Acquisition, and grab Crate 12. It's marked on top. And don't drop this one, it's full of explosives, alright?"

The kid went white. He stammered another, "Yes, ma'am!" before scurrying off, gait wobbly, his legs jelly. She chuckled to herself, setting the crate she was carrying by the base of a small pile of similar crates. No harm in a little white lie once in a while; Crate 12 was packed with Blast-Ohs cereal. A valuable commodity, waiting to be traded with the right person, for the right object of value. Supply and demand.

She straightened, casting a seasoned eye around the docking bay. Clear sky overhead today, even if it was artificial. She was in a good mood, humming a little tune as she circled the pile, the deckhands glancing at her as she stepped amongst them, inspecting each crate. After a year of nothing, a year of worrying, a Pathfinder had _finally_ arrived. She'd heard rumblings of some complications the Hyperion had coming in, but nothing concrete. It mattered little to her; for once, instead of heading back to Kadara to trade for things the Nexus needed, she was free to prep supplies for an Initiative Survey Ship.

A Pathfinder's ship.

Supplies for a Pathfinder team: now, that was a challenge she relished. She'd already been contacted by a Dr. Suvi Anwar, a member of the Nexus science team who was going with the ship as its science officer, and the good doctor had put in a list of what she required.

She'd gotten everything the doctor needed within half an hour. The rest of the team, however, hadn't gotten into contact yet. So, to kill time, she requisitioned a standard Pathfinder team supply cache: weapons, armor, planetside scanning devices, probes, food - most important, that - as well as spare materials for engineering and repairs. All of which were in the crates that lay at her feet at that moment.

What she herself needed was already there, in a small yellow crate marked with her name. She was itching to see what lay out there, beyond the Nexus and Kadara; it was the main reason she signed up for the Initiative, after all. And also partly because of the year-long waiting she had to endure, shuttling between the Nexus and the exiles.

The kid had returned, holding onto his crate gingerly, setting it carefully, gently, near the pile. She nodded her approval. "Alright, everyone, that'll be it for now. Go get some rest; I'll comm you once the Tempest arrives."

She rested her arms on a particularly tall crate, staring out over the Prime Ward. It was just like the Citadel, only smaller. No skycars yet; that would have completed the picture, could have convinced her that she was really back in the Milky Way. The scrapes that she'd been through, the deals she'd made, all of them led her to this moment. Coming to Andromeda. She'd lost count of how many times she'd doubted herself, wondering if it was a good idea. She had a little sister to take care of, and to leave her behind - no, she couldn't bring herself to do that. Both of them go together, or not at all. And yet…

 _Doubting again,_ she chided herself. _What's done is done. You're already here. Too late for regrets now._

A cool breeze across her face. She closed her eyes, savouring the sensation. Yes, it's artificial, but whatever. It felt good to finally be lifted out of the gloom, the threat of death; she and Kandros had seen how little food they had left. To have a Pathfinder to pave the way, to find a patch of dirt where they could set up a farm to speed-grow crops to make up the deficit, that'll finally bring about a semblance of stability to the badly-stalled Initiative.

And she was determined to be a part of that. To ensure everyone's survival. Even if she and the upper echelons disagreed on most things, they acknowledged that her expertise with material acquisition was unmatched by anyone out of cryo at the moment, and so they caved to her demand that she be part of the Pathfinder team. Things ran smoothly after that, even with the exiles, when she was the go-between person between the two conflicting factions.

The Tempest was a beauty. Shame she was the last of the Survey Ships they'd sent out; Kallo and his team of designers and engineers knew their stuff. She remembered the first time she cast her eyes on the Tempest, a few months back, and for all her years of experience with numerous and various types of ships, she -

Her omnitool beeped, an incoming message. " _Pathfinder en route._ "

* * *

 _Sara Ryder was excited, and for good reason._

 _She pressed her face against the shuttle's window, craning her neck to get a glimpse of the entirety of the beauty that was the Citadel as the shuttle began to slow, heading for the docks on the Citadel's ring, the Presidium. It was as she remembered: the five wards stretching as far as the eye could see, their profiles jagged against the lilac glow of the Widow thanks to thousands of buildings of various levels, a sight that still caused her heart to flutter, despite having seen it many times. It was constructed by the Protheans, after all, a feat of engineering she could only marvel at, the scope and size of the largest space station in the whole galaxy unfathomable._

 _As the shuttle dropped smoothly into the designated approach route to the ring, Sara could tell they were flying above Kithoi Ward, thanks to the abundance of holosigns on the tallest buildings, flashing different colors, flaunting various goods: from the latest X3M skycar to the new Thessian skin care products; from the implausibly powerful (and very expensive) omnitool from Polaris, to the recently-compiled complete works of a famous salarian poet. Of all the five wards, Kithoi was well-known for its advertising, and it is oft regarded as the place where 'if you can name it, you can find it.'_

 _Sara settled back into her seat. It was tiring, the past few days in Kyoto, waiting for a connecting shuttle to the Citadel. The attack a few months ago took her by surprise; she was glad to learn that most of her childhood friends made it out alive, though she was still saddened by the deaths of those who gave their lives to protect the station. Tayseri Ward got the worst of it; she noticed that a large segment of the ward close to the ring was completely dark, not peppered by the specks of light that dotted every other building on every other ward, indicating that repairs were still underway, power unrestored, as per the news reports._

 _The attack could be the reason for her delayed flight; she heard that life was returning to normal on the Citadel, albeit slowly. Businesses were surely affected; intergalactic travel, more so. But Sara was already off active duty, so a few days didn't matter. What really mattered was that she was finally going home, properly this time, compared to the three-day R &Rs she'd gotten in the past._

 _She smiled. Scott was already at the family apartment. She couldn't wait to see him, catch up with him, getting ready to pull pranks on their friends, just like in the old days. The last time they shared a vidcall, while they were halfway through their tours, she teased him about his looks; he was pimply and nerdy growing up, and now he just looked gorgeous, a face and smile that wouldn't look out of place on the front cover of a mag. She wouldn't be surprised if he already had girls swinging off his arms, a ladies' man. Well, as long as he didn't bring them back to the apartment - she grimaced at the thought._ Ugh. _  
_

 _The shuttle banked gently, coming up to the Presidium, and already Sara could make out individual freighters and starships in their docks, the control tower extending from the center of the ring, parallel to the shuttle. She could hear the pilot comming the tower, asking for permission to dock._

 _Ten more minutes, at the very least. Sara adjusted herself in her seat, and closed her eyes for a quick nap, a smile on her face. Home._

* * *

Warm. Comfortable. Dark.

Sara Ryder turned over in bed, smiling slightly as she dreamed. _Home._ And yet, her consciousness nagged at her, telling her something was off, that where she was now didn't quite tally to what she was used to. She rose to the surface of wakefulness reluctantly, not quite wanting to wake up yet, but her consciousness poked at her until she gave up trying.

When she opened her eyes, she wondered for a moment. Where was that poster of Grant Blount that she'd found in a bin at the emporium, and omnigelled to the ceiling? It was quiet, too. Too quiet, actually, for it to be her room on the Citadel. She pushed herself up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The room lights came on automatically, a soft glow, to help her adjust slowly.

Dad's room on the Hyperion.

In an instant, Sara's world imploded as she recalled everything. She was in the Andromeda Initiative. She was nearly three million lightyears away from home. She was sleeping in Dad's bed, in Dad's room on the Hyperion because he was -

Sara brought her bare knees up, hugging them, her chest tight, her hair tumbling past her cheeks, messy, settling over her shoulders. Dad was gone. And now she's leading everyone. A Pathfinder. _The_ Pathfinder. Everyone, not just the Hyperion, even the Nexus now, was counting on her.

"Why does everything have to be so complicated?" mumbled Sara, a raincloud dampening her mood.

She nearly jumped off the bed as S.A.M. spoke in her ear. **What exactly is it that's complicated, Pathfinder?**

"JESUS!"

 **While I have in my libraries the entirety of the Bible and various writings and media regarding one 'Jesus Christ,' I'm afraid I fail to see the complication, Pathfinder. Perhaps if you would narrow down the parameters?**

"No, Sam, I meant -" Sara sighed, settling slowly back into the bed, her heart banging against her ribcage. She'd forgotten that the AI was in her head, listening in to everything she said and experienced. A little detail that Dr. Lexi had mentioned to her the day previous, while she was recovering from the transfer in S.A.M. Node.

"Never mind that, forget about it. What's the current situation?"

 **It is currently 1123 hours, Hyperion shipboard time. You've been asleep for fourteen hours, Pathfinder. Lieutenant Harper is already at the Nexus, speaking to Director Tann. The Initiative Survey Ship assigned to you has not yet arrived.**

Sara frowned. "Sam, you don't have to call me that all the time. 'Pathfinder.' Just call me Sara. Well, on our private channel, anyway."

 **Understood, Sara.**

Sara moaned as she activated the shower, warm water cascading over her body, easing the aches of the previous day. She felt thankful that at this point, they were just a minor discomfort, nothing that she couldn't handle, if they had to go to Eos today. Sara had an inkling that things were going to be interesting down there; she'd spent an hour reading the Eos info packet before falling asleep with the interfaces still open. S.A.M. must have closed them all, allowing her to sleep undisturbed.

"Thanks, S.A.M."

 **What for, Sara?**

"Handling things for me while I slept."

 **Alec designed me to help in any way I can. That also extends to eliminating any discomfort that he may experience, if I am able, to allow him better functional capabilities. I now do the same for you.**

Sara reviewed what she learned so far. Eos, designation Habitat 1. Pytheas System. Twice the atmospheric pressure of Earth, with a surface temperature of 19 degrees. A desert world, wracked by radstorms, very different from the arid but comfortably habitable planet the Initiative had spotted from the Milky Way. Something had changed the planet's condition so much to the point the Nexus catalogued it as _nonviable_ after two failed colonization attempts which resulted, in Tann's own words, _'unacceptable loss of life.'_ The Scourge, most likely, given it was the go-to excuse currently in vogue all around the Nexus when something went wrong.

And the kett were there too. A significant presence, from the last scouting report. They were apparently investigating something on the planet, probably the mysterious signals that Initiative satellites had picked up. Faint, probably underground. S.A.M. compared the signals to those their scans on Habitat 7 picked up - perfect match.

To summarize: a radioactive death world, with killer aliens roaming the surface, looking for smooth-rock tech.

Sara zipped herself into a fresh Initiative jumpsuit. Carefully gathered her hair, tying it back into her now-trademark ponytail. She paused at the mirror on her way out the door, noting how tired she looked, her blue eyes dull, her corners of her mouth tight as she contemplated the juggernaut of a task that lay ahead.

"Day One, Pathfinder," she murmured to herself.

* * *

Jon drew his arm back, and hit the faceplate with all the force he could muster.

Instead of the dull thud he was expecting, his fist connecting with the faceplate, it met a slight resistance about a centimeter above the clear material, forcing his fist away, skidding off to the side. Jon stumbled, grabbing the side of the workbench to steady himself. An hour of forcing his brain to figure out a way to prevent what happened on Habitat 7, and he had a working prototype of a faceplate kinetic barrier. Well, fists are one thing. Colliding with a solid stone wall at speeds... he needed to do more tests.

Altering the thickness of the faceplate meant using a different sort of material. And Kesh reminded him that the Nexus was running short on supplies. So Jon resorted to what he did best - repurposing existing tech, cobbling something together, making something useful... a trait that the Initiative found appealing, since they could only bring so much resources with them from the Milky Way. Maybe that's why Pathfinder Ryder shortlisted him as Pathfinder team material.

"Impressive, Walker."

Kesh uncrossed her arms as she inspected his handiwork. Jon smiled, keeping his thoughts to himself. "Just rewired some redundant lighting systems, added a miniature shield generator."

"On something the size of an Initiative helmet? How'd you shape the barrier?"

Jon explained the process. Kesh grunted. "Like I said, impressive. I take it you're doing this because of what happened to the current Pathfinder? Sara, right?"

"Yeah." Jon rubbed the Initiative logo on the side of the helmet with a thumb. "We lost Alec Ryder that way. I'm trying not to get anyone else killed."

Kesh punched him gently in the arm. He winced. "You know, you gotta stop doing that."

"When I step down from being superintendent, I'll consider it, Walker. What happened to Alec wasn't your fault. And I think that you finding a way to prevent what happened is commendable. I might employ your tech in my engineers' suits, to complete construction of the Secondary Ward."

Jon inclined his head. "You honor me, Kesh."

Kesh watched him work for a while. "At least with the Hyperion hooked up and feeding us power, my team and I can get more work done. The uprising dealt us a serious blow. Morale's down the drain. I really hope the Pathfinder can bring us some good news, Walker. We need it badly."

"About that uprising. Care to fill me in?"

* * *

"Ahh. I know that look. The others bent your ear, did they?"

Sara sighed, taking the seat Kandros offered, nodding a hello to Sergeant Havok. "Something like that. I don't quite know who else to go to."

Kandros laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You get used to it. Just focus on being a Pathfinder. Can't argue with results, though they'll try."

He straightened, sweeping a hand at their surroundings: desks set up haphazardly, computers plugged into them, staff handling comms and writing reports; crates of weapons and other material against the far wall, along with a stern-looking bald guy Sara assumed was the quartermaster; cables snaking all over the floor - she'd tripped on one on her way into the office; and Kandros himself, perusing a console with a hologram of Eos on it, with several regions marked in red.

"Welcome to militia HQ. Excuse the mess, Pathfinder. From here I coordinate our militia teams, Nexus security, and looking for the turian ark."

Sara looked up. "Any sign of the Natanus? I mean, I get that none of the other arks arrived, but..."

Kandros shook his head. "All we've got are scattered readings. Some indicate the Natanus was destroyed; others said that people are alive - who knows, really? This damned Scourge is making our lives miserable." He sighed. "Anyway, Pathfinder, you need anything, come see me. Even if it's just to vent. Must have been pretty rough, the trip here. I'm... sorry about what happened to your father."

The sincerity in the turian's voice was genuine, Sara could feel it. She pressed her lips together, nodding. "Thanks, Kandros. Now I just gotta live up to the expectation. Sheesh."

"Like I said, just focus on doing what you need to. The rest will sort itself out. Forget expectations; what everyone needs now is a piece of land to begin growing things. Expand our food supply. Then we can consider science outposts, thaw out more military personnel for protection. Speaking of which..." Kandros gestured to the console he was examining.

"Ever heard about APEX teams?"

* * *

Cora Harper found herself at a loss for words. Things sounded pretty bad yesterday, but now with Tann briefing her on the full situation...

The reason he, Jarun Tann, Deputy Assistant for Revenue Management, was now Director of the Andromeda Initiative, was because all _seven_ leaders above him were dead? Even Garson and Matriarch Nuara?

"How did Jien Garson die, Director?"

Tann pursed his lips. "With the rest of the leadership, when the the Nexus hit the Scourge. A large wing of stasis pods were destroyed. They were killed instantly." His voice became somber, putting his fingers together. "These people... they traveled for six hundred years, and died before they even woke up. Jien Garson never glimpsed Heleus. She never saw her vision realized."

Cora lowered her gaze. "That's a real shame."

They were silent for a moment, each thinking of what could have been.

"In any case, Director, we came across alien technology on Habitat 7, it seemed to affect the weather. I'm fairly certain they don't belong to those 'kett' we've encountered. Does the Nexus science team know anything about that?"

Tann latched onto the subject gratefully. "There have been reports. Failed scouting missions have mentioned advanced structures of unknown design. Whatever they are, they defy explanation. But understand this, Lieutenant, with our resources stretched so tight, no one has had a chance to study them."

Cora nodded. "Sir."

Tann continued, waving a hand to make his point. "And what if the answer was bad for morale? Suppose these things turn people into... food? All we know is the kett are interested in them. I'd rather not stir things up."

* * *

Cold against her palm as Sara perused the contents of her locker in the Hyperion prep room. Everything she cherished, the reminders of a life left behind in the Milky Way, all there, right in front of her. A call came in from the docking bay minutes ago; the operator advised her to begin packing for the trip, as the ship was nearly prepped and ready.

Sara moved everything in her locker into the crate someone had helpfully sent up. It had PATHFINDER'S PERSONAL EFFECTS lasered on the top. Two years of Alliance military discipline had her pack everything neatly into the box - spare jumpsuits, folded; some casual wear from home, her favorite wool hoodie and shorts; hairbands; spare underwear; an expended thermal clip engraved with the initials of her former squad; a holoprojector containing holos of the Ryder family; Mom's old locket, passed to her before she died, containing an old-Earth photograph of Ellen Ryder within; spare underarmor.

Sara held the locket in her hand for a moment. "We're here, Mom. I'm Pathfinder now, though. Hope Dad made it safely to your side," she whispered.

Brushing a tear from the corner of her eye, Sara sealed the crate. "Sam, have the crew move my armor pieces to the docking bay."

She paused at Scott's locker, the lock a glowing red circle. "Hang in there, Scott."

Dad's locker. "I'll do my best, Dad. Though I wish I had more training."

* * *

Jon unhooked the armor chestpiece from his locker, examining it. He'd modified the Initiative's DSE - deep space exploration - armor, designed specifically for first-in teams on hostile planets, to suit his preferences. Not that the standard Initiative armor set wasn't good or anything; Jon preferred something that could absorb more damage and yet allowed him a good range of mobility, and the set that caught his eye as Alec Ryder cycled through the inventory was this one.

He brushed a speck of dust off the shoulder rig, which was specced to accept a heavy-burn jump pack. His modification. Pathfinder Ryder was skeptical when he found Jon in the machine shop one morning, sleeves rolled past his elbows, omnitools out on both arms, Jon bent over awkwardly as he fitted new wiring along the inside of the rig. That skepticism evaporated when Jon took the armor out for a test run, and since then Ryder never questioned Jon's abilities.

Compared to most people, Jon had little in the way of personal effects. All he had to remind himself of his life in the Milky Way were his Alliance tags, a small silver key hanging next to them; a small, nonreactive amethyst stone the size of his thumb he'd found in the Verge; and of course, his trusty titanium blade, encased in a newer Alliance military-grade holster. Everything else was tech he'd tinkered with, and was reluctant to share with the Initiative engineers, at least until he'd tested them out in Andromedan conditions. He wasn't keen on keeping holoprojectors; the faces already haunted him in his mind, and he'd rather not have them smiling at him from a holo, their mouths moving in his mind's eye, asking him questions he didn't want to answer.

He sealed his crate and set it in the corridor outside, next to Sara's. She was up in Tann's office, receiving a last-minute briefing. Or something. Pathfinder stuff. He had twenty minutes, at the very least. He pressed a finger to the comm unit in his ear.

"Sam? Can you send me data concerning the surface conditions of Eos?"

 **Transferring them to your omnitool now, Walker.**

"Call me Jon, Sam. We know each other better than that."

 **I admit, I still do not understand your reluctance to receive an implant, Jon.**

"I'll... tell you someday, Sam. Just not right now."

If S.A.M. detected the hesitation in the combat engineer's voice, he didn't point it out.

* * *

 _"Alec, your recommendations will never fly. Artificial intelligence?"_

 _Ambassador Goyle swiped venomously at an icon on her datapad, setting it down harder than she intended on the table. Alec remained unfazed, crossing his arms._

 _"It's our best option." He didn't give a damn what the Council thought about his research.  
_

 _Goyle shook her head, glancing at her aide in the corner. "If the Council gets wind of this, it'll set humanity's standing back_ decades _. You're overreaching!"_

 _Alec kept his frustration in check, inhaling deeply through his nose. "Ambassador Goyle," he said, keeping his voice level. "I'm the military attaché on the Citadel. My mandate is clear: find an edge for Earth."_

 _"And AI is the answer?"_

 _How is it that they can't see it? "We need to catch up. The asari, the salarians, they're_ centuries _ahead of us!"_

 _"But it's ILLEGAL," Goyle's aide said sharply. As though he needed reminding!  
_

 _"Their rules, not ours," Alec fired back. "Why deny Earth an advantage?"_

 _Goyle steepled her fingers, a spark of interest in her eyes. Ah, she's coming around to his way of thinking, at last! "Define this advantage."_

 _The aide's lips were bloodless, pressed into a thin line, as Alec tried to explain the revelation he had.  
_

 _"It will set us free. We're prisoners of our own five senses - sight, smell, taste, hearing and touch. There's a reality that's greater than ours that we can't perceive, Anita - but AI can."_

 _"How?" The aide's tone was cautious. Maybe he's coming around too._

 _Alec lowered his voice for effect. "By augmenting our own abilities, and adding a few new ones."_

 _As he'd thought, the aide brought up the one thing that worried everyone whenever AI was mentioned._

 _"Well, none of that stopped those geth from revolting."_

 _Alec raised a hand wearily. "Because they were_ separate _from their creators!"_

 _Now he raised his other hand, bring them together, to illustrate his next point. "But, AIs and humans interfaced directly, experiencing the world together? Benefits both!"_

 _He slowed his narrative, hoping to get his point across. "There's no creator to revolt_ against _."_

 _Ambassador Goyle cast a glance at her aide. Alec could tell instantly he'd lost them; the aide shook his head, and Goyle's expression when she turned back to him was one of incredulity and regret._

 _"I'm... sorry, Alec. We can't take the risk. I appreciate your work, but your request will be denied."_

 _She swept out the door with her aide, leaving Alec behind to sigh in frustration, slamming a fist on the table._

 _"Alec?"_

 _That single word, that voice, soothed his mood somewhat. He brought up the comms channel on the screen to his left. Ellen. The love of his life. She looked thinner, more haggard, than the last time he saw her._

 _"Ellen. What did the doctor say?"_

 _Ellen spoke matter-of-factly, no hesitation. "He told me to appreciate the time I have left."_

 _Alec's frustration returned, full force. What he'd suspected, now confirmed._

 _"There's no cure, Alec. It's terminal."_

 _A black mood gripped Alec Ryder. He balled his fists._

 _"Not on my watch," he growled._

* * *

Jon straightened as the door to the tram slid open. "Lieutenant."

Cora nodded. "Walker."

"Sara."

"Hey."

Sara had a faraway look in her eyes, as though she was recalling something. Maybe she was worried about what she needed to do next?

"Pathfinder. Sara?" said Cora, tapping Sara on the shoulder.

"Huh? Sorry, Cora. Thinking," Sara flashed Cora a quick, uncertain smile. "What is it?"

"Ready to see what Tann gave us? I hear it's something special."

Sara nodded tightly, still slightly absentminded. Cora opened a comm link on her omnitool. "Pathfinder en route. How's the ship?"

" _In final checks, and looking great._ "

"We won't be long."

Cora looked directly at Jon as she spoke, though she was addressing the both of them. "The way things are going, we'll be on our own out there."

"In other words, we're making this up as we go," sighed Sara, seemingly resigned to whatever the future held for them.

Cora chuckled. "We used to call that 'tactical improvisation.' But," Cora's tone brightened. "At least we'll be doing it in style."

 _In style?_

* * *

She could see them now, exiting the tram right onto the mezzanine overlooking the docking bay. She waved, getting their attention, then pointed at something above and to the right, coming down the Ward.

* * *

A low roar - no, multiple low roars, the firing of thrusters, a vibration deep in Sara's chest. The roars were a lot deeper than those of the dig team's frigates she was used to; Sara remembered a snippet from a preflight infomercial she saw once: Initiative Survey Ships were _fast_ , faster than anything in the Alliance fleet. Capable of traveling lightyears per day, if necessary. What she didn't know was how a Survey Ship looked like, thanks to the designs being kept under wraps by the development teams.

Cora said, with a hint of pride in her voice, "They call her the Tempest."

Sara wasn't the sort of person to be 'in love' in things. But when she beheld the ship swooping in for a textbook-perfect landing, her heart fluttered. "Oh, wow."

Now she knew what a Survey Ship looked like. And _oh boy_.

The one word that Sara could think of, be used to describe the Tempest, was _sleek_. The streamlined body of the Tempest seamlessly curved into pair of main wings at the rear, which housed a pair of thrusters on each side. Downward thrusters, a pair slightly aft of the canard and another pair beneath the main wings, fired as the Tempest dipped slowly. The belly of the ship opened up, a loading ramp descending on hydraulic arms. **TEMPEST** was emblazoned on either side, halfway down the ship's body. The clean white-dark-grey-copper paint scheme gave the Tempest an air of fresh-off-the-assembly-line, which enhanced its sleekness.

The Tempest itself was roughly a hundred meters in length, smaller than any Alliance frigate that Sara knew of, but as she drank in the sight of the craft - her craft - she knew she wanted to get on board as fast as she could, to see what was in store for her, her burdens as Pathfinder temporarily forgotten. Unbidden, a slow grin began to form on her face.

"Let's go take a closer look!"

Deckhands were shifting crates aboard the Tempest as the trio took a ramp down to the docking area proper, a small crowd gathering. Jon felt uncomfortable; while Sara and Cora were busy taking in the Tempest - he found it beautiful in its own way, much nicer than the shuttles he used to take - he couldn't help but notice many stares in the crowd were disapproving. Word of Ryder passing the title of Pathfinder to Sara must have spread already.

Some were more encouraging, open smiles. Someone even yelled, "Pathfinder! Good luck!" Jon tucked his hands in his pockets, trying not to appear too conspicuous.

He didn't like crowds.

The Tempest cast a shadow on them as they neared the loading ramp leading into the ship. A turian was there, directing the deckhands, her voice loud. "Let's pick it up a little bit, people, we're fourteen months late! You, grab this one. Make sure to load it near the side, and strap it in place. Kellor, use a hovertrolley for that one, and be careful!"

She turned to face them, her mandibles twitching as she smiled. "So, you're the one who's making everything happen."

Sara gulped as she looked up. And _up_. She knew turians were tall, but _damn_.

She grasped the offered three-fingered hand, wincing slightly at the strong grip. "Pathfinder Sara Ryder."

"Ryder, huh? You're... a little shorter than I expected."

Sara sighed theatrically. "I get that a lot. But you're pretty tall yourself."

The turian chuckled. "Pathfinder, huh? Me, I'm an Initiative wrangler, provisioner, gunner, and everything in between. Nice to meet you, Sara. I'm..." the turian trailed off as she locked gazes with Jon, her jaw dropping.

"In the name of the spirits?"

Jon had a similar look on his face, a finger coming up to point at the turian in disbelief.

"Vetra!?"


	15. Departure

A breeze blew. Eyes blinked.

"You two... know each other?" said Sara into a stunned silence that stretched a little too long for anyone to be comfortable with.

The turian recovered first, shaking her head slightly, breaking the spell, producing a throaty sound that Sara realized was the turian equivalent of chuckling. "I'll explain later. For now," she steered Sara towards the Tempest, a hand on her back. "The sooner we get out of here, the better. Come on, Jonathan."

Jon closed his mouth and hurried, trying to keep pace with Vetra's long strides, the lieutenant jogging alongside him. Sara threw a query over her shoulder, being propelled along by the strong turian. "You're coming with us?"

Vetra nodded. "Yup. Otherwise, there's no way they're letting this ship off the station."

Sara detected a hint of something in the turian's voice, possibly pride. She stubbed her toes on a protruding part of the ramp, and wondered. "Vetra... right? Vetra, what's the rush?"

"Just... don't want to waste any more time. Come on."

Before Sara could point out the obvious lie - a difficult thing, watching her footing, trying not to fall over as Vetra's strong hand pushed her none too gently up the ramp - a voice called out from behind them.

"Hold it. HOLD IT, Nyx! You're not going anywhere!"

Vetra paused, lowering her head. " _Dammit._ "

Sara, Jon and Cora watched, a little confused, as the turian turned, flashing the widest smile she could muster at the colonial officer that had come up behind them, datapad in hand, a frown on his face. "Director Addison wants to see a complete report of the Tempest's supplies, munitions and crew, Nyx."

Sara stroked her chin; she thought Tann had it all sorted out. She glanced at Cora, who shrugged. "Don't look at me."

Sara decided to say something. She was the Pathfinder, after all. "Director Tann overruled Addison, sir, so... what's the problem?"

The officer checked something on his datapad. "The ship's loaded out with equipment for outpost discovery, miss. Squarely under Director Addison's purview."

"Hey, watch it, pal. That's the Pathfinder you're talking to," interjected Cora.

The officer's expression did not change. "No report, no takeoff," he said, crossing his arms. "I'm authorized to prevent the Tempest from leaving. At least, until Vetra here submits that report."

"I got it, Pathfinder. Gimme a sec," muttered Vetra, stepping back down the ramp.

Sara watched as the turian adopted a soft voice, gently pulling the officer away from the Tempest. "Seen you around. Ben, right?"

"Wonder what that's about," said Sara.

Jon huffed, gesturing unhappily. "More bureaucracy, I suppose. The people upstairs sure do love their paperwork, even in a damn crisis situation."

Sara was surprised by the venom in Jon's voice. Cora, next to her, fiddled with her belt, cinching it tighter. "It's been barely a full shipboard day, Walker. I think they need time to hand over Initiative property. Especially if it's the last Survey Ship in the entire Initiative." Her tone belied what she said, though, her brow furrowed as Vetra laid a hand on the officer's shoulder, saying something to him, too far for them to catch.

They watched as the colonial officer shook his head, swiping at something on his datapad and walking away, while Vetra made her way back to them, her mandibles twitching.

"What'd you do, Vet?" asked Jon.

"Promised him something. In return, he has agreed to handle Addison for us," smiled Vetra, leading them further into the Tempest. "No reports. We're free to leave."

Sara quirked an eyebrow. "Nicely done."

"Part of the job, Pathfinder," Vetra waved a hand dismissively. "All things considered, it was an easy ask. Right now, you need people tearing down obstacles, not putting up more."

"Finally," Cora whispered. "Someone who cares about doing stuff, not just talking about it!"

* * *

"Everything's state-of-the-art. Labs, sensors, exploration gear..."

Sara turned on the spot, taking in the loading bay. All their gear, in crates, were there, lashed securely to the walls; she spotted hers stacked atop Jon's, which was almost twice the size of hers. Directly ahead was a small personnel elevator, which was lowering to their level. A familiar face.

"... and her crew, of course. The best in their field."

"Good to see you're looking so well, Sara. And you too, Jonathan, Lieutenant."

Jon nodded at Dr. Lexi as she passed, pleased she was coming with them. She lifted a hand, giving his arm a squeeze as she passed, heading for her medical supplies, red crates with the universal white medical logos on their sides.

They rode the elevator to the upper level, the platform sliding into place with a quiet hiss. Vetra continued to brief them as she led them further into the ship, pointing. "The engine core's based on the arks' ODSY drive -"

"But runs a hell of a lot quieter," came a gruff voice, completing the sentence. Ship engineer's jumpsuit, red hair, face peppered with stubble, he shouldered past them, activating his omnitool. "System checks out, Vetra. Ready to go."

"That's Gil Brodie. Engineer, mechanic, all-round wrench jockey," said Vetra, leading them up a short flight of stairs. The door slid open.

"We call this the research room. There's space for upgrading equipment, gathering intel..."

" _Router engaged. Securing connection to Tempest,_ " intoned S.A.M., hidden audio outputs giving his voice a quality of being all around them.

The research room was bathed in artificial light from the Prime Ward outside, about as intense as the sunlight in summer back on Earth. Jon shielded his eyes with a forearm, squinting. A dark blue hologram of the Nexus over a central projection table, consoles running all around the circular edge of the table. Databanks at the far end, under the bright shaft of light, their interfaces glowing orange in the gloom.

"Welcome aboard, Sam. Oh! And Ryder, of course!"

A thick accent, one Sara took a while to recall as... Glaswegian? That voice though, silky smooth, pleasant shivers running down Sara's arms as she took in the redhead that descended from above, Vetra standing aside to let her pass. Her ginger hair was a mess, artfully so. Clad in a science officer's jumpsuit, the redhead smiled at Sara as she passed.

"... all run by Doctor Suvi Anwar, our science officer."

Vetra led them up the stairs that Doctor Anwar had just descended. They emerged into a circular room, a conference room, a circular table with the Andromeda Initiative logo emblazoned on it, six computers at the ready to begin teleconferencing. What took Sara's breath away, though, was the view. Full three-sixty. She rotated on the spot, looking out at the open space of the Prime Ward. She stared in wonder.

Jon ran a hand across the tabletop; he'd probably just found his new favorite spot on the ship. The highest point of the Tempest. Isolated. Quiet. A view to boot! This beats having a window view from an Alliance prefab on the ground!

"Your quarters are below," said Vetra, running her fingers through the fronds of a potted plant by one of the window panels. "Plenty of space up here to get everyone together." She chuckled as she noticed Sara's stunned look; the Pathfinder had laid her hands on the rail that ran the entire circumference of the conference room, her lips curling into a giddy smile.

"She's all yours. Light, stealthy, the fastest ship in her class."

Sara's smile dipped slightly, eyelids coming down slowly to veil bright eyes. She sighed, rubbing a spot on the rail. "Every plan the Initiative made is out the window. Now, it's on us to find the way."

The import of the mission came back to her. She was the Pathfinder. She was now the tip of the proverbial spear. They were actually going out there, to Eos.

And beyond.

"We all came here ready for a challenge," reminded Vetra, glancing sideways at Jon; she tapped his shoulder. "When you're ready to fly, Ryder, head over to the bridge. Our pilot should have everything ready to go. Jonathan, a word?"

Sara cast a worried glance at Jon as Vetra practically dragged him along with her. _They must have had history_ , she mused. Whatever it was, she hoped it wasn't bad blood.

Vetra steered Jon back down the stairs, and into a side room off the research room, the hologram of the Nexus rotating slowly. "Tech lab," she explained. "More privacy." She closed the door behind her, turning to face him, all two meters of her; Jon could almost feel himself shrinking as she strode towards him, her eyes hard behind her holovisor.

He rubbed his left cheek involuntarily.

"Now, Jonathan Chang. What in the name of Omega and all things holy are you doing here!?"

* * *

This is it.

 _Everything he needed - which was very little, really - was packed into a well-worn duffel bag from the previous century. It still bore the patch of some long-forgotten sporting team, though the patch itself was so faded it was practically a blank patch of grey. He tapped a foot, impatient, waiting for the smugglers to arrive in their dropship. His instructions to them had been very specific, and he was nervous at the possibility that his carefully-crafted plan to escape New Canton would unravel like a slashed ball of twine. Too many things could go wrong. One already had - he wanted to bring Chester with him. But now his_ hengdai _, the closest thing he had to a blood brother, was dead. At his own hand._

 _Jon stared at his palm, the hand which held the gun to Chester's head, the index finger that pulled the trigger. He remembered it clearly as though it was yesterday. He remembered the pattern of blood spatter on his hand, bright red against his pale skin. The feel of the gun in his hand. He remembered marveling at how small the entrance wound was - and remembered being sick almost immediately at the thought._

 _He killed his own brother to get out of New Canton._

 _Revulsion rose within him. On impulse, Jon drew the knife from its sheath with his left hand, holding the blade above his right wrist. If he applied just the right amount of force at the right angle, he could sever tendon, muscle and bone easily -_

 _The soft knock on the window was answered with the titanium blade singing through the air, embedding itself in the window frame. Jon's arm still outstretched, his eyes wide, as Mouse peeked around the edge of the pane, trembling, moonlight illuminating one side of his profile with an unearthly white glow, a spirit of the night._

 _The kid who lived at the corner. Mouse. Barely twelve years of age, and yet a most important asset to the Er San gang._ Was. _His scrawny frame fitted easily through the crack as Jon pulled on the sliding panel, the rust on it hiding the fact that he'd oiled the tracks - the panel slid open without even a whisper, letting in some cool night air, Mouse tumbling to the floor with nothing more than a soft_ thump _._

 _"Mouse._ Ni zai zhe bian, shen me shi? _"_

 _The kid, scruffy in his mismatched clothes that were probably unwashed since the 70s, shook his head, backing against the wall as Jon tugged his blade free of the rotting wooden window frame, returning it to its sheath, Mouse's eyes on the blade the whole time._

 _"There's someone looking for you, Chang_ ge _._ Wai xing ren _. Tall. Three fingers on hands," Mouse fired off rapidly. "She sent me to get you. Says I know the route to where they hid their_ fei ji _."_

 _Mouse reached a shaking hand towards Jon. "Chang_ ge _, were you... about to cut yourself? Hurt yourself?"_

 _Jon sighed, a stone in the pit of his stomach. He raised a hand, intending to comfort Mouse. The kid scooted back as his hand reached out. Jon let his hand drop._

 _It was silent for a while. Each of them, knowing each other for years now, felt something between them fracture, irreversible._

 _Mouse wasn't a dumb kid - he was one of the smarter street urchins, more sensitive to the feelings of the others. And reliable too; he managed to escape the Long Yan's purges of the remainder of the Er San gang. On more than one job he and Chester had employed the kid to act as their eyes in enemy territory, his unassuming appearance drawing no attention as he pretended to beg for food, beady eyes noting things that the two of them told him to watch out for, ears picking up conversations and snippets of orders._

 _He spoke first, his voice steadier, knowing where he and Jon now stood. "Where would you go, Chang_ ge? _"_

 _Jon lifted the duffel, strapping it securely to his body. He smiled sadly._

 _"Away from here, Mouse."_

* * *

 _"_ Zai zhe bian. _"_

 _Jon reset the grate carefully, the rusting metal rough against his palms, as Mouse bounded over to the tall alien, holding a hand out. He was positively diminutive next to the alien, who, under the moonlight, cast a shadow so large Mouse seemed to disappear in it. She dropped a bag that clinked into the kid's hand, the kid peering eagerly into it, his eyes going wide as he took in the sight several thousand_ renminbi _. Enough for him and_ ama _to survive for years!_

 _Mouse wrapped his arms around one of the alien's legs, mumbling a grateful_ thank you _, the alien peering down at him in what seemed to be amusement. Jon held his hand out to Mouse. "_ Zhao gu zi ji _, Mouse._ Gao bie le _."_

 _Instead of the formal handshake, Mouse brushed Jon's hand aside, wrapping his tiny arms around Jon's waist. Jon patted the kid on his head, returning the hug. "_ Ji de ti xing ama chi yao wo. _"_

 _"_ En. _"_

 _And he was gone, slipping back into the shadows, back to the seemingly-inescapable prison that was New Canton. Back to the life of gangs. But at least he and his grandmother would live comfortably for a while. Jon needn't warn Mouse about spending all that money in one go. The kid was smart, he knew what to do._

 _New Canton._

 _He let his eyes roam over the darkened buildings, the neon lights in the distance, Wanxia Heights. In his mind's eye he flew through the streets, remembering every storefront, every back alley, the places he and Chester had visited over the years, the brawls he got into, the eateries he'd frequented. Daisuke's - the place was gone now, Daisuke wisely moving out ever since the news Boss Chang was dead hit the streets. The warehouses by the waterfront where he'd practiced firing gunpowder weapons. The florist's, he'd visit with Ka'aira sometimes, the elderly Mistress Vivienne smiling her wrinkled smile, picking out wonderfully fragrant and vibrant plants for Ka'aira's viewing pleasure, despite her being an alien. The dumps, where he and Chester once spent two nights as punishment - they'd turned the two nights into an exploration, an adventure!_

 _New Canton. A place he would never forget, ingrained in him, like a habit, a reflex. A slum, yes, but it was_ home _._

 _And yet, no longer home. The places were probably still the same, but the people. People he'd knew, was close to, either dead, left the place, or submitted to the Long Yan gang._

 _It wasn't the New Canton he knew._

 _He turned to the tall alien, tearing his gaze regretfully from New Canton. He squared his shoulders, toughening himself, wrapping his heart in steel, tightening his fists. He resisted the urge to shed tears. Weakness._

 _Time to move on._

 _"I'm Chang. Jonathan Chang. You are?"_

 _The alien gestured with her head to the far side of the canals. "This way."_

 _Jon kept his mouth shut as he followed the alien, eyes scanning his surroundings, body tense, his blade on his thigh at the ready. He'd swiped a gun from the Long Yan armory before he left; it currently resided in the small of his back. Every shadow was watched for suspicious silhouettes, every snapping twig met with his eyes, hand hovering over the hem of his shirt, ready to whip the gun out at the first sign of trouble._

 _Paranoia. It was what kept him and Chester alive when the purges began. When the gang practically dissolved overnight, when brother turned on brother, distrust boiling over into pure hostility, misguided anger._ "Fucking rats," _Chester had spat, as they hid in one of the gang's secret safehouses, known only to the deceased Boss Chang and his most trusted lieutenants, listening to the killings taking place outside._

 _He could still hear steel rendering flesh. The screams of the dying. Gunshots in the distance. The soft sobbing of a little girl as he cradled her, her life ebbing away minute by minute as she bled out from multiple slash wounds, an innocent in the crossfire._

 _"Name's Vetra Nyx."_

 _Jon jerked back to the present. There was an odd quality to the alien's voice; it sounded different from human and asari speech. Jon would later learn it was called flanging, but at the moment he was fascinated by the odd way words formed on the alien's lips. If she had lips at all. A pair of mandibles extended from either side of her mouth, nearly obscuring it; they moved as she spoke._

 _"I assume you know what I do, since you're using Ka'aira's contact chip. She's a close friend; you must have meant something to her, if she'd let you know about me. How's she doing, Chang?"_

 _"Ka'aira's dead," said Jon bluntly._

 _The alien froze. "And how did that happen, I wonder?" She began reaching slowly for the weapon folded away at her belt._

 _"Gang war. She was a casualty. My fault. I was... close to her," said Jon, hanging his head, the emotions threatening to swamp him once more. The image of Ka'aira's severed head flashed across his mind's eye._

 _He refused to remember the expression on her face._

 _"You... you fucking coward. You fucking bastard!"_

 _The punch, he saw coming, but he let himself be hit. It was a small price to pay for the fate that befell Ka'aira, thanks to him. He was thrown off his feet by the force of the blow, landing in a heap, feeling something give in his cheek, tasted copper in his mouth, as the alien strode up to him, grabbing fistfuls of his clothes, hauling him up, his feet leaving the ground._

 _"You killed her, and now you're running away from it all? How about I shoot you right now, Chang? I ran with her for ten years. Ten!"_

 _Jon shrugged, a bark of laughter escaping from his lips, pain lancing through his cheek as he drew his lips back. The alien fell silent, further words dying in her mouth as Jon giggled, chortled, and finally broke into full-blown laughter. For Jon, the alien's words were as music to his ears. Everyone he loved and cared about were all dead. What was there left for him? New Canton was no longer the place he'd been trying to defend. The enemy had won, pillaging and raping their way through the peace the Er San gang had carefully cultivated over the decades. What was there left to save? What was there left for him?_

 _Why should he give a flying fuck about living, if there was nothing to live for?_

 _"You'd be doing me a favor, Nyx. Heh. I've got nothing left to lose but my life. Be my guest. I have a gun in my belt. Push it against my forehead, pull the FUCKING trigger yourself, if it makes you feel any better, for Ka'aira's death."_

 _He spat, a glob of saliva and blood hitting the concrete._

 _A multitude of emotions coursing through the alien, Jon could see the changes in her expression as she contemplated what he'd said. The alien was pretty human, in a way. He could see the anger, the bared teeth, then the sadness at losing a close friend, the way her mandibles closed in. Then pity, as she lifted her eyes to meet his._

 _"No, I won't kill you, Chang."_

 _They exhaled at the same time, the alien slowly putting Jon back on his feet._

 _And then a shot echoed around the canals._

* * *

Sara wandered down the center of the ship, the floor clear plastiglass, giving her a view of the corridor below. Ahead was the door leading to the bridge; she spied a ladder leading to the level below, tucked into an alcove, and grabbed it, sliding down to the lower level. She wanted to have a look at the entire ship first before she actually took off. Wasn't that what Navy ship captains do when they take command of a new frigate, or dreadnought? A tour of the ship, knowing where the ship's armaments were, the mess hall, checking up on their crew, knowing where the nearest bathroom was, in case of an unfortunate bowel emergency?

She'd toured the engine room, the humming of the Tempest's drive core in her bones, as she introduced herself properly to the ship's engineer, Gil Brodie. A little gruff, but dedicated to his job, knowing every system on the ship like the back of his hand. She'd pointed out the very obvious blank space in the middle of the loading bay, with clamps in the floor indicating something should be secured there - he'd told her, in no uncertain terms, the disgust he had for the Nexus leadership in wasting the Initiative's entire supply of ND1 Nomad all-terrain exploration vehicles.

She'd met up with Cora in the bio lab, the lieutenant running checks via a console built into the wall. She'd turned eager eyes to the Pathfinder, her lips curling in an excited smile, as she reported all systems were go for launch, animosity at Sara being Pathfinder all but forgotten.

Dr. T'Perro was unpacking medical supplies as Sara walked into the medbay, using her biotics to move bottles of vitamins and pills into the various overhead shelves that ran the entire length of the room. A pair of medbay beds stood ready, scanners blinking as they went through their diagnostics. The doctor explained, as Sara helped move a piece of heavy equipment into the corner, that Dr. Carlyle had decided to swap places with her, citing that he was unable to keep up with the rapid pace of the Pathfinder team back on Habitat 7. As a plus, Dr. T'Perro was a xenobiologist; if they encountered any more of the kett, it was possible that the doctor could find out something more about them, give them the advantage should the team need to fight them again.

Sara could hear the hunger in the doctor's voice as she spoke about the kett. She excused herself hastily soon after, before the good doctor could begin her monologue on the kett; Sara had attended a xenobiology lecture by the doctor preflight.

She was stuck in the hall for seven hours.

The crew quarters. The galley - Sara's favorite place on the researchers' frigate, back during her tours with Silva's team - was fully-stocked with basic ingredients. _Yes! Fresh food!_ Though - she peered into a shelving unit, biting back a curse - rations were available, too. In case they were out for extended amounts of time, Sara reasoned.

Her room, directly under the bridge.

The VI embedded in the panel before the doors glowed green as she approached, recognizing the Pathfinder, the doors parting with a near-silent hiss. Her room was semicircular, divided roughly into three parts. To her left was her personal wardrobe and her bed, a simple affair, but more comfortable than the military bunks she was used to. To her right was her desk, with a terminal and a miniature S.A.M. node, and a low coffee table with an accompanying couch. The central area was simply an observation platform, offering a view of the outside that even the conference room's couldn't possibly match.

All of this, hers. She'd begun to think of what was supposed to be Dad's stuff as hers, now. It made accepting the reality that she was the Pathfinder a whole lot easier.

Well, she'd practically toured the entire ship. Except for the tech lab, where Vetra and Jon were still talking. Guess that room would have to wait till they were in space.

Sara climbed the ladder to the bridge.

* * *

"Departure trajectory locked, Nexus Control."

The bridge was a lot roomier than the ones on the frigates she had been on. Instead of the pilot being at the very front of the ship, there was a small platform, flanked by a pair of consoles on each side. The redheaded doctor, Suvi, was settling into her seat at the left console. She turned, brightening at the sight of Sara. "Kallo, the Pathfinder's here!"

The pilot's couch on the right swiveled; Sara was greeted by a large-eyed salarian, who smiled. "Ah, time for introductions!" He sprang out of his seat, jerkily making his way towards Sara, excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "You must be Ryder. Kallo Jath. A pleasure to be here - and to meet you, of course!"

His energetic handshake had Sara infected; a smile formed on her lips automatically. "I'll be piloting the Tempest at your word. Quite the ship!" He gestured with a hand around them. "But!" He raised a finger, smiling. "It'll take a Pathfinder's guidance to see us through Heleus!"

Sara nodded. "Pleasure to meet you too, Kallo. Plenty of dangers out there, but I'll do my best to avoid them."

Kallo seemed to be pleased at this statement; he rubbed his hands together. "That's reassuring. Wouldn't want to lose my finest work to that angry cloud."

The salarian pursed his lips as he mentioned the Scourge, eyelids closing partway as he glanced through the viewport at the Prime Ward outside. He snapped out of it in an instant, leading Sara over to the platform she'd noticed earlier.

"I was test pilot for the Tempest's early prototypes. I admit, I'm itching to see how she performs out here!"

A slim console rose out the floor as Sara approached. She was immediately lost in the jumble of data streams that ran across the interface; Kallo noted her expression immediately. "So, how do I uh...?" Sara gestured at the console. _No star map?_

"Ah, yes. The console syncs with your implant. Just swipe, touch a destination here -"

A golden web blossomed in Sara's vision. A star map, S.A.M. laying it over her vision. Sara blinked. _There it is._

"- and the nav system calculates everything. Very efficient, don't you agree?"

"Impressive, Kallo," Sara agreed, sticking her bottom lip out as the doors to the bridge slid open to admit Jon, Vetra and Cora.

"Everything's secure, Pathfinder," reported Vetra. "If you're ready..."

Sara nodded. "Let's do this."

Kallo balled his fists excitedly. "All right then!"

As he took his seat, fingers flying across the console, activating thrusters and initiating sequences, Cora viewed a report from the Nexus on her omnitool. "Command access is transferring successfully, Sara."

Suvi piped up from her workstation. "Eh... science and monitoring stations look fine."

"Helm is green. Gil reports the drive core is online," called out Kallo, swiping at a set of holographic settings. A slight shiver ran through the entire ship, the vibrations passing through the soles of everyone's feet. "Primed for takeoff, Pathfinder."

"This is it, Sara. The Tempest is yours. Unless you've got something to say, for the log?" queried Cora, hands behind her back, Alliance parade-rest position.

"Err. The log?"

"You're the Pathfinder. People will want to hear what you have to say."

Sara thought about that for a moment. "It may not be as inspiring as I hope it would be," she said hesitantly, worried.

A hand on her shoulder. Jon's small smile, a wink. "You can do this, Sara." He squeezed her shoulder.

Sara nodded, taking in a deep breath. "All right then."

"Fire away, Pathfinder. Record's on," said Suvi, pressing her finger to a holo.

* * *

 _The human female, young, inexperienced, took command of the fastest ship in the entire Initiative fleet. People watched, listening, tuning in to the recording on their omnitools, a pair of enterprising former journalists managing to catch the moment on a recording device, for future use, should their attempts to persuade Tann to allow them to start up their news network go through. Everyone had been waiting for this moment; humans, turians, salarians, asari, and the single krogan left on board the Nexus. For the first time since emerging from cryo to a situation that seemed hopeless, a small flame was kindled in every living being's heart on board the space station._

 _Her words kept that flame going, a promise. There will be a future for them all after all._

 _ **I never planned to be Pathfinder. We expected Golden Worlds, but now there's just a long road ahead. I don't know what's out there, honestly. But we're the Milky Way's best and brightest. We can do this; hold on to that dream. It might see us through.**_

 _The Tempest rotated slightly as it rose, downward thrusters firing, the loading ramp folding into the ship's belly. The four main thrusters adjusted themselves, aligning, then fired, the Tempest beginning true forward motion down the Prime Ward to the exit at the far end. A few cheers from the small crowd gathered on the docks sent the Tempest off on its maiden flight._

 _Director Jarun Tann watched the launch on his screen, brow furrowing, mind already on Eos._

 _Superintendent Nakmor Kesh watched the launch with her crew in Engineering, nodding her approval, giving encouraging words to the less-convinced engineers. They trusted her; one by one, deep frowns softened, slow smiles appearing on each face._

 _There was even a hug._

* * *

 _Departure vector verified, Tempest. Godspeed, Pathfinder._


	16. Preludes

_The chase was exciting. Too bad it's over now._

 _I've done all that he wanted, all that he asked of me, and now, I am free to roam, and roam I shall._

 _For the chase is already over. But the hunt? It's just begun._

 _I hear things. Things like how Top Bitch is now actively looking for the Charlatan._

 _I see things. I know who exactly the Charlatan is. I know his top lieutenants. I know their safehouses, tucked neatly into Kadara Port's infrastructure. Unassuming._

 _Not my problem. If she wanted to know who the Charlatan is, she shouldn't have turned me away._

 _But her right-hand, that turian, was a lot smarter. But I don't like him. It took me three days to purge his stink from my nose._

 _For now, I'll play along._

 _The Hyperion has arrived. He's on board._

 _And when he comes, I will kill him for what he did._

* * *

 _Lavi'Nara had never felt so alone as she did right now, equipment rattling around her, her knees jammed painfully into a storage crate. The human crew around her exchanged banter, shouting to be heard over the noise as the shuttle entered the atmosphere. The human Alliance was kind enough to grant her a position on the survey team to look for something for her Pilgrimage; in return, she promised technical support and expertise in electronics, something in short supply, she learned, in the ground teams of the Alliance Geological Service recently, thanks to the attack on the Citadel._

 _She pressed her hands together, interlocking her fingers. Veetor had gone off to Freedom's Progress, a small human colony. She hoped he had more success than her in befriending the humans; these ones had loud voices, boisterous, shamelessly describing their sexual conquests of the previous night. She felt her cheeks burn, but no one could see it behind her mask; things like that weren't spoken of in polite society, back on the Fleet. Out of habit, she angled her head away from the offending humans, choosing to glance out the shuttle's starboard window at the planet below._

 _Lavi was surprised at how pockmarked the surface of Akuze was, craters big and small dotting the grey-white landscape, with the irregular mountain thrown in for good measure. How did the humans ever set up a base here was a question she would probably never find the answer to. She swore that some of the craters were so large, the_ Neema _could probably fit in it. But these humans were a geological survey team - surely they won't be staying here long?_

 _She heard about Akuze from a friend in the Fleet. A tale - a legend, even - she'd heard during her own Pilgrimage: some sort of derelict starship found half-buried in the planet's surface. No one had managed to get close to it, on account of the vast chasm that surrounded the starship - and attempting to land close to it caused engines to fail. Lavi knew then she would be the first to crack the secrets of the starship wide open, and complete her Pilgrimage with whatever tech she could get her hands on inside that husk of a ship._

 _If it even exists in the first place, that is._

 _Her omnitool vibrated as a message came through. Strange. Only her family knew her code, and she'd warned them against sending messages to her directly, for fear the humans would be able to hack into her systems, despite her own security measures. She brought her arm up, her omnitool glowing green._

 ** _YOU COMFORTABLE?_**

 _Sender unknown. A cold shiver ran down Lavi's spine as she contemplated the message, slowly straightening in her seat._

 ** _SORRY. MUST BE A SHOCK TO YOU._**

 _She swiped fingers across her omnitool. WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT?_

 _ **NOTHING,** came the reply almost immediately. **JUST CHECKING TO SEE IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE, THAT'S ALL. THAT'S A LOT OF GEAR IN THE SHUTTLE. HOW ARE YOUR KNEES?**_

 _Lavi reached for her gun. The person was right here in the shuttle with her?_

 ** _RELAX, LAVI'NARA. I'M NOT TRYING TO HARM YOU. JUST A FRIENDLY GREETING. WOULDN'T WANT TO SHOUT OVER ALL THAT NOISE NOW, WOULD I?_**

 _She withdrew her hand from her waist, sweeping her eyes across the cargo hold. The three humans to her left were still chattering away, oblivious to her sudden movement. Two were up ahead, facing each other, omnitools out, a holoboard in the space between them, some sort of strategy game. The two pilots, bringing the shuttle out of atmospheric entry, their hands swiping and stabbing at the controls._

 _And the lone human sitting facing her, suited up in the standard Alliance military hardsuit. His eyes were on her, piercing, through the faceplate._

 ** _AHA. FOUND ME._**

 _She kept an eye on him, heart thumping in her chest, as she typed out her answer. WHO ARE YOU? HOW DID YOU KNOW MY NAME?_

 _She was nearly thrown out of her seat as the shuttle jerked to a side. The human in front of her didn't even flinch, merely leaning into the motion, as though he'd done this many times._

 ** _WIND. AKUZE IS A BITCH TO WORK ON THANKS TO THEM. OR SO THE HIGHER-UPS SAY. COULD BLOW YOU INTO A CRATER IF YOU AREN'T CAREFUL._**

 _He shifted. Lavi wondered how he could send her a message if he wasn't even accessing his omnitool._

 ** _BLINK-ACCESS, LAVI. SPOT THE BLUE GLOW._**

 _And indeed, as Lavi squinted past the faint purple tint of her mask, through the white from the planet's surface outside, she could barely make out an ice-blue glow inside the soldier's helmet, beside his eyes. It gave his gaze an unearthly quality._

 _How did he know what she was thinking?_

 ** _I MODIFIED MY SUIT A LITTLE. NOT OUTSIDE OF ALLIANCE REGULATIONS, BUT IT SURE DOES MAKE LIFE EASIER WHEN NOBODY KNOWS YOU'RE ACTUALLY CHATTING WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND WHILE YOU'RE LISTENING TO SERGEANT SMARTYPANTS GOING BLAH BLAH BLAH._**

 _She had no idea what the human had just said - what's a smartypants? - but she was intrigued by the way he'd managed to route omnitool systems onto his faceplate, and to control them by blinking!_

 _HOW DID YOU DO THAT? A thought occurred to her. ARE YOU A TECHNICIAN?_

 _ **SORT OF.** The human shrugged. **I'M A COMBAT ENGINEER. HAD TRAINING. I DO A LOT OF WIRING, HELPING THESE BASTARDS SET UP THEIR EQUIPMENT AND SUCH.** He tilted his head at the three._

 _YOU'RE... NOT LIKE THEM. LOUD. I HATE LOUD PEOPLE. MY SHIP'S QUARIANS HAVE ALWAYS BEEN QUIET._

 ** _I'M NOT A GREAT TALKER MYSELF, LAVI. OH, AND HOW I MANAGED TO HACK INTO YOUR OMNITOOL? SIMPLE REALLY. WORK LONG ENOUGH WITH THE SAME CREW, YOU'D KNOW THEIR CODES. JUST LOOK FOR THE ONE THAT VAGUELY LOOKS LIKE AN ALLIANCE ONE. YOU DO KNOW YOUR CODE'S AN EXPLETIVE, RIGHT?_**

 _Lavi blushed. REALLY? GUESS I'LL HAVE TO CHANGE IT THEN._

 ** _PLEASE DO. YOU MAY NEVER LIVE IT DOWN IF A LESS-THAN-FRIENDLY HACKER FINDS YOU._**

 _She studied the human. His relaxed posture told her this was a mission he was used to. And now that the inside of the shuttle was bathed in white, she could see his eyes clearly - a nice brown, like the curtain in her room back on the ship, a splotch amongst many other colors. They weren't the eyes of a predator, of the people looking to take advantage of a quarian on her Pilgrimage, the stories she'd heard from the others, worried for herself. She found an inquisitive playfulness in those eyes that seemed to look right into her._

 ** _APOLOGIES. SO RUDE OF ME, TO KNOW YOUR NAME BY HACKING INTO YOUR OMNITOOL, LAVI'NARA. MY NAME IS JONATHAN CHANG WALKER. NICE TO MEET YOU. BUT I WANTED TO SEE HOW YOU'D REACT. YOU'RE ON YOUR PILGRIMAGE, YES?_**

 _HOW DID YOU KN_

 ** _MY SUPERIOR, CHIEF ENGINEER ROLSTON. HE ASKED ME TO KEEP AN EYE ON YOU, TO KEEP YOU SAFE IF NECESSARY. IT'S RARE THAT A QUARIAN ASKS TO FOLLOW A SURVEY TEAM DOWN TO A PLANET. LET ALONE A DANGEROUS ONE._**

 _Lavi felt her mouth go dry. AKUZE IS... DANGEROUS?_

 _The human, Walker was it? He shrugged again. **LIKE I SAID, WINDS CAN BLOW YOU INTO A CRATER. THERE WERE ALSO REPORTS OF SOME UNIDENTIFIED SIGNALS COMING FROM THE FAR SIDE OF THE PLANET. AND THRESHER MAWS, OF COURSE.**_

 _Lavi felt her toes curl. YOU'RE... PULLING THE LEG, RIGHT?_

 _He shook his head. **UNFORTUNATELY, NO.**_

 _The mention of the signal kindled a spark of hope in Lavi's heart. Maybe that's the starship!_

 _HOW RARE IS IT THAT A QUARIAN JOINS AN ALLIANCE TEAM?_

 _He paused. **YOU'RE THE FIRST.**_

* * *

 _Lavi breathed heavily, holding onto the pistol for dear life, her finger curled around the trigger. She'd never held a gun in her life before, let alone been in a firefight._

 _And she was absolutely terrified._

 _Jon dropped back into cover beside her, careful to eject his thermal clip away from them, the red-hot clip bouncing away into the darkness. "You alright, Lavi?"_

 _Lavi blinked, her tongue snaking out to wet her lips. She wanted to reply. But she couldn't find it in her to say the words. A shot whipped by overhead, grazing the top of the storage crate they were behind, leaving a furrow in the metal. She wheezed._

 _"Lavi? Lavi!"_

 _He cursed, rose and fired. A thwock. A gurgle. A thump._

 _It occurred to Lavi that she'd just witnessed a killing. She blinked again, screwing her eyes shut._

 _"Lavi? LAVI! We need to go, now!"_

 _The cold fear, immobilizing her, her joints locked, her limbs like steel. She didn't know how she still breathed, it was as if she was outside of herself, looking at her physical body, screaming at herself to move,_ damn it!

 _But her body refused to answer._

 _His hand on her shoulder, shaking her. She barely felt it, her mind blank, her hands still tight around the pistol he'd given her, what was she doing here anyway?_

Thisisitthisisitthisisit -

 _She can't remember who she was. She didn't know why she were here._

 _"Lavi."_

 _He lowered himself in front of her, grabbed her on either side of her head, her mask. He bumped helmets with her, the unexpected gesture finally snapping her out of it, the thud, the vibration against her forehead._

 _She blinked. They were so close. His eyes, the same shade of brown, now an urgency about them. "Lavi. If we don't move now, they'll kill us. Understand?"_

 _She remembered now. She nodded tightly, coughing slightly, her throat dry. She blinked.  
_

 _"Move down the hall, keep low," he pointed. "When I start shooting again. Okay? I promised I would keep you safe, Lavi. So, we'll get out of this together. Okay?"_

* * *

 _Sara grunted as she hit the mat. Hard._

 _Saturday afternoon, The Crater. It should have been time off for the Pathfinder team candidates. Most of them had hit the clubs and bars in Lowell City the night before, and wasn't prepared for the morning call at 0600 hours. The reason for the unusual change in timetable became apparent - the candidates quickly straightening, trying their damned hardest to appear presentable - when they filed into the gymnasium._

 _Pathfinder Alec Ryder was here to inspect their training._

 _Sara wasn't feeling her best, her head throbbing - she, Scott and Liam Kosta had gone for a film, then downed beers at Deneb's Finest, a place Scott swore by after Liam took him there a fortnight ago. She passed out after her third - or was it fourth? - drink. Didn't remember much after that._

 _And she's regretting her decision now, as she pushed herself off the foam, rubbing her hip where she'd landed on it, her world spinning slightly as she adopted a ready stance._

 _Her opponent - an instructor in hand-to-hand, never quite got his name - adopted a wide stance, face impassive. Shame filled Sara as she spotted her father, arms crossed, shaking his head as he witnessed her latest failure to stay on her feet. She was the older Ryder. She should have known better, kept herself in check. She should have been taking care of Scott, too, instead of letting him indul-_

 _Sara paid for her moment of inattentiveness, a quick jab to her ribs, followed by a right hook. She raised her left arm, sluggish, barely deflecting the blow._ Focus, Sara, get your damn head in the game! _She countered with an uppercut, too slow, the instructor hopping a step behind, then ducked low and swept with a leg._

 _The combination of dizziness and slow reflexes had Sara finding herself facedown in the foam once more, her feet expertly swept from under her. She pushed herself up slowly, on a knee at first, sparing a quick glance over at Scott. He took down his opponent with ease, a fellow candidate, and she sullenly wondered why she was paired with an instructor, it wasn't fair!_

 _A flurry of jabs - Sara found herself at a loss, trying her damned hardest to counter the attacks, to look for an opening. The instructor was using a strange technique today, rapid, aggressive attacks that eluded her usual counters. Already she could feel the aches in her chest where she'd received most of her hits, her sternum still smarting from the open palm smack that sent her flying minutes ago. She hopped as she spotted the instructor going low, correctly assuming he was going for another sweep._

 _Then, she saw an opening._

A singular punch, a feint? _This was her chance. Sara made as if to dodge the punch, then brought her hands together, crossing her wrists, trapping the instructor's arm. She intended to twist her hands so that she could flip him onto his back - if he resisted her action, he would be risking snapping a bone._

 _Sara grinned. She got him now._

 _Feeling no resistance, Sara began to twist her hands, just as she wanted. She was already anticipating the weight of the instructor on her shoulder, bringing him over her and smacking him into the foam, bending her knees._

 _What she did not expect was the instructor twisting his body instead, not his trapped arm, bringing a leg around one of hers, the contact warm._

What the-

 _Sara Ryder's world tilted._

* * *

 _Sara wiped the sweat off her brow, tossing the towel aside venomously. The other candidates were leaving, low moans punctuated by quiet conversation, nursing their bruises. And she had the honor of staying behind, the worst performance in the entire team today, to be chewed out by the Pathfinder himself._

 _Dad leaned against the wall, sunlight slanting across his face, the N7 logo on his black-and-red armor gleaming. He looked intimidating enough in civvies, perpetual frown and gravelly voice causing even the toughest of grunts to straighten up and salute him. To see him in his legendary armor just made Sara feel dread as she walked up to him, hanging her head._

 _At fifty-five, Alec Ryder was in the prime of his life, but the stresses of being N7 - and being outed as a researcher of AI a year or so ago - had taken its toll on him. Sara noticed that his face was more lined than usual - or was it a trick of the light? He'd lost friends - many of them fellow members of the Grissom expedition through the Charon relay back in '49 - to the various conflicts around the galaxy. And looking after them, the twins, after Mom died soon after he was recruited for the Initiative, must have been difficult for him. He never spoke about Mom since she was gone._

 _Sara felt a pang of guilt, unable to meet Dad's eyes._

 _"You do know he was going easy on you, right, Sara?"_

 _Before Sara could stop herself, her brain working of its own accord, she mumbled, rather lamely, "He fought dirty."_

 _"_ 'Use only that which works, and take it from any place you can find it.' _We're training you to be prepared for anything, Sara. This is what Pathfinder team training's all about. We don't know what's waiting for us in Andromeda. So fighting dirty may very well save your life. Remember that." He jabbed a finger at that last statement._

 _"Yes, Dad," Sara mumbled morosely. She lifted her eyes. Dad's eyes were thunderstorms._

 _"About last night, I'm sorry, Dad. I should have-"_

 _"You should have," said Dad, his voice flat. Though his voice betrayed no hint of emotion, Sara could see the anger giving way to disappointment in his eyes, which made the whole thing much, much worse. "I know, you've been at it long and hard, and deserve a break from time to time. But never let loose completely. I need you to be combat-ready at a moment's notice, and I can't have you unable to fight when that time comes. Don't do it again. Do I make myself clear, Specialist Ryder?"_

 _Tears spattered the floor. "Yes, sir," said Sara, her voice low._

 _"Combat sim, in twenty minutes. Outside. Prep and ready."_

 _"Sir."_

 _Alec Ryder watched as his daughter made her way out of the gym, shaking his head, sighing, putting a hand to his face. Sometimes he wondered if he was too hard on the twins, but Andromeda was another beast entirely, something that two tours couldn't prepare them for. He himself, a grizzled veteran with decades of experience under his belt, was actually worried about the conditions they would face in that new galaxy. And he needed Sara to be as ready as she could ever be; her combat skills have never been her strong point. Scott's were, but he was too hot-headed, too glory-seeking to be part of the team, let alone lead it. Harper's good, but she's too much of a follower than a leader._

 _This close to launch, Alec Ryder had no time left to train another to take his place. He didn't want to break the news to Harper; he needed her to believe, to keep her at optimal performance. She did far better than he anticipated, especially with her biotics._

 _Shame about Walker, who had all the ingredients, except his persistence that he didn't want that implant..._

* * *

 _"So... you use 'nar' when it's the ship you were born on, and 'vas' when it's the ship you are serving on?"_

 _"Quite correct. 'Nar' translates to 'child of', while 'vas' is 'crew of.'"_

 _"So that would make your name... Lavi'Nara nar Idenna?" The words flowed from his lips like water._

 _"Well done, Jon!" Lavi clapped her hands. "I've never heard of anyone who wasn't quarian pick up Khelish so quickly!"_

 _Embarrassed, Jon scratched the back of his neck. They were in the sleeping quarters of the base, sitting on Jon's bunk, her omnitool out, an old-Earth stylus and paper notebook on Jon's lap. Lavi had been very interested in it, looking at the tiny tome from all angles, delicately flipping through the pages with one finger. She declined politely when Jon offered her the stylus to write, but he'd insisted that she tried it out.  
_

 _And she was glad she did. The feel of the stylus in her fingers, the way it produced something called 'ink' to allow her to jot down a word or two in Khelish on that 'paper'... it was nothing like she'd ever experienced._

 _"This was how your people... kept records?"_

 _He shrugged. "Back in the day, yeah. Maybe a hundred or so years ago? Right now, no one writes with a stylus anymore."_

 _"But you still do."_

 _"Call me old-fashioned," he smiled at her. She smiled back, but then remembered that her mask prevented him from even seeing her face. Lavi sighed. There was something about this human that intrigued her. The way he behaved around the other humans, it was as if he didn't fit in. She'd always thought the humans were fiercely bonded by togetherness, like the quarians in the Fleet._

 _She had to remind herself she was all but eighteen of the humans' years. Barely an adult, in their terms; she had a lot to learn. But what better time to learn than now, from a human whom she found agreeable, and was willing to spend time to talk to her, instead of those other bosh'tets who just stared at her and muttered to each other?_

 _"Well, hello, Old-Fashioned. I'm Lavi'Nara..." she dodged the light punch he threw her way, then smacked him playfully on the forehead. "Bosh'tet. Don't do that again."_

 _He feigned being wounded, holding his forehead in a hand. "Ow. You started it!"_

 _They laughed._


	17. Humorous Interlude, A Birthday Gift

_He feigned being wounded, holding his forehead in a hand. "Ow. You started it!"_

 _They laughed._

* * *

"Who the hell writes this crap?!"

Jon shrugged, catching the script that Sara tossed at him, then tossing the script over his shoulder in turn, sinking deeper into the couch. He was tired after that action scene on the Habitat 7 set, running about the whole day, no showers, the inside of his armor smelling like old socks. It was someone else's on the APEX set next door, hastily lent to him to shoot the scene; the staff couldn't find a fresh one his size in the props department. He scratched at a small wound on his shoulder; the chestpiece had chafed.

Sara was sprawled on her own couch opposite him, taking a huge swig from her glass of iced tea. She nudged Jon with a foot. "Cheer up, Jonnie," she drawled. "It's Eos next. Lots of action, running about, you showing me how to be a real soldier."

Jon withdrew his foot as she nudged him a little harder. "Please, Sara. I'm enjoying my time off. Don't know why the director wants me in today; we've shot all the Akuze scenes earlier. Free food though, that's a plus, so no complaints."

"Amen to that, Jonathan," rumbled Alec Ryder, coming in through the door. He slapped his chest; the N7 armor hissed, then fell apart, Alec's hand reaching around his back to catch the back piece. He laid the armor beside the door and stretched.

The pops made them all wince.

"Heeeeeey Dad," said Sara, singsong. "What have they got you filming today?"

"Oh, the prelaunch scene with Jien, aboard the Nexus set. The director says the film's going to be called _Nexus Uprising_. I'm just a cameo; the real star's your Aunt Sloane."

"Aunt Sloane?!" yelled Sara, leaping off the couch. "She's here?! I wanna get an autograph from her so bad, she's so fucking _badass_ -"

"Language, Sara," piped up Suvi from her spot on the couch, next to Sara. She was curled up in the warm embrace of the cushions, eyes moving left to right as she read her book, hair a mess where Sara had snuggled next to her minutes ago, love bites red against her tanned skin.

Properly chastised by her girlfriend, Sara sheepishly ran a hand through her hair. "Heh. Sorry Dad."

Alec smiled in Suvi's direction. "Thanks, Suvi. You seem to be able to handle my Sara really well. Better than me, at least. Jonathan, how's the shoulder?"

"It's alright, Mr. R. Still slightly sore, but I have full function."

"That's good to hear. I had words with those rigging fellows. Someone's head is going to roll for that stunt they pulled with your rig."

"Lucky I'm trained by you, Mr. R. Flexible as hell."

"Hey, don't forget about me!" yelled Vetra as she came through the door. "Turian, remember? Reach AND flexibility. Hey, Alec."

"Hello, Vetra. Aunt Sloane's in the middle of shooting right now, being all menacing for the cameras. I think she'll be done in an hour or so, though," said Alec, pouring himself a drink from the rec room's dispenser. "Vetra, juice okay with you?"

"Yeah, thanks, Alec. Ugh. Sid's being a pain in the ass again."

Jon sighed theatrically. "What did she do this time? Run off with the director's cap?"

Vetra snorted. "Funny you should say that, Jon. She did."

Jon sat up. "No way," he exclaimed. "She managed to pull _that_ off?"

Vetra pointed a finger at the windows, nonchalant, accepting the drink Alec offered to her with her other hand. "Just listen."

They all paused, listening intently, Suvi looking up from her book, Vetra sipping from her glass.

 _SIIIIIIIIID! Come back here, that cap is worth more than your ass, you little punk!_

Jon chuckled. "She's in it, big time. You going to bail her out, Vetra?"

She laughed. "Not this time, no. Scott around?"

Sara settled back into the couch next to Suvi, laying her head on her girlfriend's shoulder. She pointed with a toe at the area behind Jon. "He's playing Towers of Hanoi with Avela."

The turian went pink. She huffed and stomped off in the direction Sara had indicated.

"Uh oh. Someone's in deep shite," said Suvi casually, setting her book down, fingers playing along Sara's jawline.

"Have fun, you kids. I'm headed outside for a smoke," said Alec, shaking a pack of cigarettes. They all chorused a "see you later."

"Mm. Someone else is going to in deep shite if she doesn't - _ohhhh_."

"I know, Vivi. Does it tickle?"

A squeal of delight. "Heeeey. You know I'm ticklish, Sara. St-stop it, you twat!"

Sara pressed her lips to Suvi's to shut her up, pushing her down into the couch. "Mm."

Jon cleared his throat loudly. "Eh. Mind taking it upstairs, girls?"

Soft moans; they were ignoring him, hands roaming, Sara's head dipping down below Suvi's neck, nibbling gently at her collarbone. Suvi's bare toes curled as she reached for Sara's -

Jon slowly averted his gaze, eyes rolling to the ceiling. " _Wo de ma ya._ " Those two lovebirds are going to be the death of him; Sara couldn't stop giggling when they shot the scene of her being on the Tempest for the first time, passing Suvi in the research room, then seeing her on the bridge with Kallo. The sexual tension had been so palpable, they probably needed an omniblade to cut it.

"Yo, Jonathan. Seen Alec anywhere?"

Jon raised his voice to drown out the moaning. "Outside, Jarun. He's having a smoke. Is Nozomi with you?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Jon downed his drink in one gulp, getting up. Time to leave the lovebirds alone, see what the others are up to. He ventured into the pool hall; Vetra was now focused intently on the Hanoi game, Scott and Avela watching through the crooks of her arms. Liam, Jaal, Evfra and Peebee were playing pool, Evfra expertly downing three balls with a clever twist of his cue. "Yes! That's twenty credits to me!"

Jon smirked. On screen, the angaran resistance leader was tough as nails, no-nonsense. Turns out he's just as fun-loving as they were.

"Heya Jon-boy! Did you see Foster in the spa, getting her face done? Says it's that rubber mask she's been wearing for weeks! Imagine that!" called out Peebee, chuckling to herself. "Good thing she's done with her scenes! Me? I'm a raccoon-facepaint sorta gal! No masks for me!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, kid, you'll be seeing a lot of her once they start up Prodromos," grumbled Drack, delicately moving a piece across the board, oblivious to the fact that Lexi wasn't paying attention to their chess game, but him, hands laced, chin resting on them, doe eyes.

"Aww, man! She's so... so..." Peebee gestured violently, trying to find the words. She looked comical doing it, as though she was trying to strangle a saxophone. "So... stick-up-the-ass! Like Cora!"

Jon smiled as he ascended the stairs. _This crew's nothing but awesome._

"Jonathan, dear? I've got a call from the set at the other end," peered Ellen Ryder over the upstairs banister. "He said it's important."

"Thanks, Mrs. R!" Jon replied, bounding up the stairs two at a time. Calls from _them_ are rare, and he wasn't going to keep them waiting.

He snatched the receiver from the wall.

"Hello from the other side, how are things over there? Oh, hey, Maxwell. Lace? You're there too? Nice. Yeah, we're headed to Eos next, you? Ah, the Breach, cool. Wait, what? _A spin-off?_ Who's playing the Inquisitor, then?"

He listened intently. Frowned. Someone new. Someone he hadn't heard of before.

"Hang on a sec, Max."

Jon covered the mouthpiece with a hand. "Guys? Can anyone tell me who the hell Kalani Lavellan is?!"

* * *

 **~AUTHOR'S NOTE~**

Hello everyone. If you can't tell by now, this chapter is entirely NON-CANONICAL to the story at present. This chapter is a dedication to one of my staunch supporters and fellow writer, **FivebyFive89** , who writes a really nice Sara/Suvi fic. It's her birthday. And the idea for this chapter just popped into my head out of nowhere, so I thought, "What the hell, let's do this." And voila!

(Inaccuracies in ME lore are ignored for this chapter.)

(Events of this chapter were inspired by my own post on the BioWare Social Network forums, under the thread "In the cold dark between the stars." Page 3. If anyone's interested.)

 **FivebyFive89** , I hope you enjoyed this humble little birthday gift from the other side of the world. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

P.S. And if anyone's really wondering who Kalani Lavellan is, head on over to **FivebyFive89's** new post-Trespasser fic, **Crawling**!


	18. Path To A Better Beginning

_"Dr. Carlyle... is Scott going to be okay?"_

 _Harry Carlyle looked up from his datapad. "Hey, Sara. He's fine so far. Lexi had to induce a coma to keep him alive; stasis revival got interrupted when we hit the Scourge. His body's fine; it's his neurons that we're worried about. They're far more delicate than body cells. Add S.A.M.'s implant to that mix, and, well..."_

 _The doctor sighed, looking more tired than Sara had ever remembered seeing him. "Right now, we can't say for sure. We're rerunning the revival process. Hopefully his body can readjust to the conditions outside of cryo. The biggest issue we're dealing with is the possibility that his neural pathways may be overloaded from all the pod's circuits frying."_

 _Sara peered into the cryo pod that contained Scott. She could barely make out his features through the frosted, reinforced plastiglass. She laid a hand on the pod, trying to push the thought that it looked a lot like a coffin out of her mind. Scott was all she had left. Mom, Dad, they're both gone. The Ryders were nearly extinct._

Stop. Don't think that, _she chided herself._ Scott will pull through.

 _A pause, the uncertainty overpowering her thoughts._ He has to.

 _"Keep me updated, doc. Comm me directly if anything changes."_

 _"Will do, Sara. And... about your father. I'm sorry we couldn't save him."_

 _Sara tried to blink the tears out of her eyes. "I'm sure -" she inhaled, smiling tightly. "I'm sure you did everything you could, doc."_

 _"Yeah, but still. We lost a Pathfinder on my watch. Doesn't sit right. Now I just need to make sure your brother here pulls through. We're not losing another Ryder."_

* * *

"We're clear of Nexus space, Pathfinder."

Ink-black, dotted with stars. Sara gripped the console, taking in the view, which wasn't much different than that of space in the Milky Way. But it had its own ethereal beauty, thanks to the thought that these were the stars of a whole different galaxy. It stretched, infinite, from one side of the viewport to the next, and yet Sara knew it was all around them - no, that's not right.

To be more accurate, _they were in it_.

Space, the final frontier. An abyss so huge, it was unimaginable, unquantifiable, incomprehensible. Growing up, with easy-to-access transportation from the Citadel to other planets, other star systems, Sara had more than her fair share of space, though most times she was more focused on the long, boring wait between stops. A few times, though, unbidden, bored out of her skull, she'd turned her gaze to the ship's viewports, looking at the stars. And she would let her mind wander. How big was the universe, really? Was it all really just collections of stars suspended in a vast, empty nothingness? What were they then, the Council races, when compared to something so much bigger than them?

Sara felt the black swallow her, the Tempest's bridge fading from her consciousness as she gazed into the abyss, that same questions she'd asked herself back then now resurfacing with the force of a tsunami. It felt intimidating, the infinite cosmos. She was but a singular, tiny speck in this strange, new galaxy. What then, was she, compared to the universe? Atoms? Subatomic, even? Faced with something so huge that even the asari don't have words for it, what was her name worth? Did her name _even matter_? She was practically nothing!

The black robbed everything of meaning with its vastness. There was nothing but it, the black, the infinite abyss. The very thought scared Sara to her core, but she could do nothing but stare back into the darkness, paralyzed, unable to think, an ache deep within her chest.

She was all alone in that vast _nothing_.

"Sara. Are you alright?"

A warm hand on her shoulder, Jon's voice coming from somewhere far away. The contact shattered the illusion in an instant, like the breaking of glass, and for a moment Sara was disoriented as the bridge came back into sharp focus, sounds suddenly clear in her ears, the tang of starship in her nose. She realized she was totally vulnerable in that moment of gazing into space, no sense of smell, sight, hearing, or even time. Just... nothing.

Sara unconsciously leaned slightly into Jon's hand, the movement imperceptible except to Jon, who tightened his grip, squeezing gently, as if to assure that he was still there with her. She found comfort in that simple human act, that this, her being Sara Ryder, the Tempest, Cora, Jon, everyone else, the Nexus, the Initiative, the Milky Way galaxy, the Andromeda galaxy, all of them were real, tangible, solid.

They existed. They existed within the void. There was _something_ after all, no matter how big the universe was.

Sara shuddered, clearing her throat, further grounding her in reality, her breath loud in her ears. This was real. She was real. She gripped the console hard.

"Y-yeah," she managed. She turned slowly to look at Jon. His smile was enough, a familiar face, bringing her back fully to reality. She could feel the Tempest's deck firm beneath her feet. She smiled back, feeling warmth spread throughout her body, a most welcome feeling after that cold. "I'm fine. Just... enjoying the view. Our first real glimpse of Andromedan space."

Jon nodded, like the same thought had been coursing through his head. "Pretty cool, huh? I was wondering if things behaved differently in Andromeda than in the Milky Way. I thought things were different. It's sort of funny, seeing everything just about the same. Same space, same stars..."

"Going FTL," announced Kallo. "You'll see nothing but lightstreams in three, two, one."

The view ahead blurred. Sara stepped back from the console, feeling lightheaded. She barely felt anything as the ship accelerated, except for maybe a slight hum that resonated throughout the Tempest's hull. Or she was imagining it; she couldn't tell. She bit the inside of her cheek, wondering if the others had noticed her momentary lapse in attention, thinking about space. Jon's hand had dropped from her shoulder, the place where his hand was now feeling a little colder. He'd stepped back to rejoin Cora and Vetra, looking at her expectantly.

A tiny part of her missed Jon's touch. She dismissed the thought with a shake of her head.

"How... long to Eos, Kallo?"

"ETA forty minutes, Pathfinder," said Kallo, switching on the autopilot. "Flight path locked in for the Pytheas System."

Vetra sighed, turning to leave the bridge. "Well, time to prep for the surface op. Pathfinder, who do you want on the ground, besides yourself?"

The question caught Sara off guard. "What?" She blinked at the turian, wishing that her thoughts could hurry up and catch up with the present.

"The ground team, Sara, when we get to Eos," remarked Cora, quirking an eyebrow, as though Sara was forgetting something she was supposed to remember. "You're not going down there alone. You'll need backup."

"Standard operating procedure says three in a team, Pathfinder," stated Suvi, checking a record. "One Pathfinder, two team members. Though," the doctor pressed a finger to her lip. "I suppose you can ignore that if you wish, what with everything having gone to shite these days."

Suvi flinched, catching herself, a hand up to her mouth in horror. "Oh, piss. Pardon my Martian, Pathfinder."

Sara waved off Suvi's apology, feeling foolish. _Of course, a ground team._ She needed to get her head in the game. "Who do we have?"

"Me," said Vetra automatically, her excitement evident. "Never been to Eos before, even before they pulled us all back to the Nexus after the uprising. Plus, I'm great with a gun. You'll need all the firepower you can get if the place is crawling with kett."

"I'm your second, Sara," said Cora, tugging at a lock of her lopsided hair. "It'll be risky, us both down there at the same time. But I do have biotics," she shrugged, holding up a clawed hand. "Your decision."

"And uh... me, too," said Jon quietly, after a short pause where no one spoke. "Got your back, Sara. As I've said before." He stepped back, eyes flicking between Kallo and Suvi, embarrassed, both strangers to him.

Kallo swiveled around in his seat, hemming. "Team of four, huh? That could work. STG cells deployed in fours, back in the Milky Way."

"I agree with Kallo, Pathfinder. And Vetra's right. I'd feel more comfortable knowing that you're safe with three people watching your back."

"We don't know how large a force the kett has, though," noted Cora. "The last orbital scan was months ago. Things could have changed. Fewer kett? More? A smaller team of three could slip past them."

"To do what?" wondered Jon. "Sorry, lieutenant, but I'm not briefed on the mission parameters."

Cora gestured at Sara.

"Well, Director Tann wants us to find a way to settle Eos. Make it habitable. I'm not really sure how though..." began Sara, looking between them.

"We've got terraforming equipment onboard," Vetra pointed out. "Comes standard with every Pathfinder cache."

Cora shook her head. "Too slow. Terraforming takes years. We've only got months, if not weeks."

Sara remembered something from the data packet she was reading last night. "The Nexus did manage to pick up some odd signals from Eos just before the second colonization attempt failed," she noted, expanding the file on her omnitool into a holo so that all of them could see. She pointed. "Here. Sam says the signals coming from this point here is the same as the signals of that structure that Dad had activated back on Habitat 7."

" _An atmosphere processor,_ " said S.A.M. " _According to the Nexus scans, it appears the structure on the surface of Eos may be one as well. Comparing external structural scans now._ "

A holo of that smooth-rock structure they'd scaled back on Habitat 7 appeared in the center of the bridge, the lights dimming. Motes of light swirled about as another fuzzier structure appeared next to it, the orbital scan, the two holos coming together. They fitted almost perfectly, the data streams merging with each other to form a whole.

" _A match, Pathfinder. The signals on Eos are coming from an atmosphere processor. The ages of the two processors correspond as well. It is likely both were built at the same time._ "

"By whom?" asked Cora, her eyes wide in wonder.

" _Unknown at this time, lieutenant. However, it is most likely not by the kett._ "

"So there's another alien species out there we haven't seen yet," said Jon, his voice low.

" _Affirmative._ "

"So... we find that smooth-rock tech, make it work for us, clear the weather, like on Habitat 7," said Sara. "That'll be our priority."

She turned to look at her team. Cora, Vetra, Jon.

"All three of you," she declared, feeling her heart leap into her throat as she said the words, giving orders for the first time in her life. "Ready up. We're going down there."

All three nodded silently. "You got it, Pathfinder," said Vetra as they left the bridge.

Sara rubbed her chin, frowning. _Was that the right choice?_ She wondered. She ambled slowly out of the bridge to begin preps of her own, two pairs of eyes on her as the door slid shut.

Kallo turned to Suvi. He blinked. "Smooth-rock?"

Suvi winked at Kallo. "As long as it's about rocks, dear Kallo, I'm all for it. Can't wait!"

* * *

"Hey boss. Heard the news?"

The Charlatan was but a shadowy figure reclining in his seat, feet up on the table. The last of the day's starlight casted orange and black stripes across the room through shuttered windows, the light already beginning to fade. The way he sat, so very still, had her doing a double take when she peered into the room a minute ago, pushing the door the rest of the way open, her knife already in her hand. The only way Keema Dohrgun could have known he was there was the pinprick of fire, the tip of his 'cigar.' Whatever that was. It seems the species that her boss belonged to, these 'humans,' really liked them.

Their current safehouse - _not so safe,_ mused Dohrgun, considering its location - was on the outskirts of Kadara Port. It's usually used as a sally port, a _govataan_ , for their little Collective into the settlement from the wastelands, but for today, it's the boss' private place to unwind and relax after that last deal.

" _Paavoa_ , Keema. Yes, I have. Come, sit." The shadows shifted, the Charlatan lifting his feet off the desk, a five-fingered hand gesturing in the light, beckoning her to him. Dohrgun sheathed her knife, closing the door behind her. "You need to stop scaring me like that. I was almost ready to throw my knife."

"I know, Keema. That's why I trust you. Always so very cautious."

She sat beside him, with him, in the shadows, feeling a little awkward. While the angara were well-known to be very expressive, she was a little more reserved. The fact that she'd never had any relationships in the past thanks to her holding back her emotions made her relationship with the boss all the more... thrilling. Exciting. And yet, a little uncomfortable. Compared to herself, the Charlatan was the very definition of mysterious, keeping his emotions hidden carefully behind a blank stare. She never knew what he was thinking at any given time, and when she first met him, disliked and respected him in equal measure. _Anyone able to keep their thoughts and emotions to themselves are dangerous,_ she'd reasoned. The same could be said of Sloane Kelley and her Outcasts.

He draped an arm casually around her shoulders. Dohrgun stiffened, wondering if the deal had gone through, and the Charlatan was celebrating with a cigar. Or had it failed, and he was in one of the dark moods that she'd seen him in sometimes? People had paid visits to the Charlatan before when he was in those moods. More than once, Dohrgun herself showed them the door - dead. Instructions to her people to drag the body to a sulfur pit somewhere to dispose of it were common.

Sometimes she wondered if the boss had ever considered her a threat to his power. She had her contacts from way before the Outcasts took Kadara Port by force. She'd fought in five campaigns against the kett, surviving each time, before realizing it was a futile effort. The boss was a master at his game, subterfuge, a tactic that was entirely foreign to her, skillfully maneuvering himself and the Collective around the Outcasts, the people from the _Jarevaon Imasaf_ , themselves players of the dangerous game as well.

Dohrgun felt her skin go cold as he tightened his fingers around the curve of her shoulder. And yet, he was still silent, the only sound in the room was of him inhaling greedily, then exhaling, a cloud of smoke erupting from his nostrils. She found the smell somewhat... sweet, at odds with the current situation.

"Keema, Keema. We've known each other for so long. Why so quiet? You're not usually this silent, babe. What's wrong?"

His voice, low, husky, the same tone he'd take whenever they were alone together, brought a flush to her face. Dohrgun relaxed into his arm; she was certain the deal had gone well, and he was indeed celebrating. "Oh, it's nothing, _babe_ ," the word catching in her mouth, sounding so odd to her, trying to emulate what he was saying. The Charlatan chuckled, leaning forward to stub his cigar out on the desktop.

"Keema, darling," he whispered, a hand sliding under her chin, the boss turning in his seat to face her. "You have no idea how much I've missed you."

Words usually meant nothing to Dohrgun, but the way the boss said it, equal parts adoration and plain, simple _need_ , had the words become something like _tavum_ , clouding her mind, her inhibitions and misgivings melting away like snow before a warmth-lamp on Voeld. She couldn't help herself - the past two weeks away from him, directing Collective efforts out in Haarfel, had been hard on her as she imagined him running his hands over her body even as she held her knife to the throat of an Outcast spy. She didn't know why she felt like that. _Was this love?_ She'd often wondered, thinking back to the stories she'd heard from her old comrades in the campaigns, remembering their hushed descriptions of their intimate times with their significant others and blushing furiously.

One thing she knew, though, was that the only way to get rid of this painful ache that had plagued her, was to give in.

Dohrgun batted his hand aside, then dove right in, crushing her lips against his own, running her hand down his arm. She savored the sensation, the feeling of _rightness_ , as his hands cupped her face, the boss returning the kiss, deepening it.

They broke apart for air, Dohrgun's breath warm against her boss' chest, her fists gripping the fabric of his jumpsuit, his deft fingers already seeking out the clasps of her own clothing. She gasped as he suddenly reached under her, lifting her up easily, carrying her over to the desk. Hot now, the lust clouding her mind, she threw off her gloves, running her hands across his chest, unable to find the 'zipper,' he called it; she simply dug her fingers into the fabric, tearing it.

He held a hand to her mouth as she moaned, gentle, as she looked into his eyes that burned with a desire that matched her own. She smiled naughtily. "Oh, but did you know how much _I_ have missed you, my Charlatan?" she whispered into his ear.

He grinned as he shucked off his trousers. "Let's find out, shall we?"

* * *

Jon looked over his armor, checking it on last time. Everything seemed to be in order; he slid a pair of spare cells into the slots in the chestpiece, twisting the covers shut. The entire rig was slightly heavier than a half-loaded standard Alliance crate, nothing he couldn't handle. Plus, his underarmor would help mitigate some of that weight anyway - the multilayered weave absorbs kinetic energy, replenishing power stores. All in all, his armor was all ready to go.

Weapons - now that was something he was worried about. He still had his Talon - it was on the bench next to him; his sidearm was usually the last thing he checked before he went boots on the ground. What he needed was a primary firearm, what with his Mattock now just a memory in an acid pool on Habitat 7. He felt a little guilty for losing it, not just because it survived Akuze with him, but because Vetra had spent two months looking for that non-regulation scope for him. And she'd taken a hit to her arm that took two weeks to heal completely.

He unlocked the weapons cache, the VI accepting his Pathfinder team code in his omnitool. He paused, feeling the thrill. He was an actual Pathfinder team member. Here he was, on the frontlines, following Sara into whatever they were going to find on Eos, and beyond. He was fulfilling what Pathfinder Ryder wanted him to do, encouraged him to be.

Jon smiled slightly as he recalled his roots. Slum rat from New Canton? Started from the bottom.

Now, he's here.

His eyes fell on a set of weapons he hadn't seen before, blue-white paint scheme. Pathfinder Ryder had allowed him access to the entire range of Alliance weaponry - plus N7, though no one else needed to know that - and he knew the specs of all Alliance weaponry, down to the notoriously difficult-to-manage Black Widow sniper rifle rumored to be favored by the first human Spectre, Commander Shepard.

This set of four didn't have the shapes familiar to him.

His hand hovered over the set. Honey-yellow holos popped up, listing each weapon's specs and their names: an assault rifle, a shotgun, an SMG, a sniper rifle. He grasped the assault rifle, lifting it free from its mass effect field.

* * *

 **PATHFINDER PIONEER**

TYPE: **ASSAULT RIFLE**

FIRING MODE: **AUTOMATIC**

SHOTS/CLIP: **24**

THE PIONEER FEEDS DATA DIRECTLY TO A PATHFINDER'S S.A.M., ALLOWING ADJUSTMENTS TO THE AUTOMATIC WEAPON'S BALANCE, RECOIL, AND HEAT BUILDUP. THIS WAS THE FIRST PATHFINDER WEAPON DEVELOPED BY ANDROMEDA INITIATIVE SCIENTISTS TO SERVE AS A VIRTUAL EXTENSION OF ITS USER'S BODY.

* * *

Jon hefted the weapon. It was very odd for the scientists to make the stock rounded - _it's supposed to fit snugly against the upper arm, for crying out loud, for better recoil management!_ The weight of the gun suited him fine, though, about the same as his Mattock, but packed in a more compact form. He brought the weapon up in both hands, aiming down the sights - the stock skidded off his shoulder, as he'd thought, from his motions.

Jon worked the clip ejection system - a smooth, lubricated clack. This was a great weapon for him, except that the stock was rounded, it was automatic -

He glanced at the side of the weapon, hearing a soft double _beep_ from it. A notice flashed on the tiny screen right above the trigger guard, where shot count was usually displayed - _S.A.M. implant not detected. Weapon locked._

\- and of course, that he didn't have a S.A.M. implant. Jon sighed, setting the weapon back into its mass effect field.

This set of weapons was for Sara only. And Lieutenant Harper, maybe. He sighed again, looking down the weapons rack for something that he could carry into battle, something he could one-shot with, not some generic, standard-issue crap that plinks the enemies instead of killing them.

"Heya, Jon."

"Hey Vetra." He huffed, gesturing at the multitude of weapons arrayed before him. "Anything better than these pieces of crap? Something heavy. One-shot, semiauto, if possible."

Vetra crossed her arms. "You lost your Mattock."

Jon sighed for the third time. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, Vet," he smiled apologetically at her. "Things got crazy on Hab 7. We were in a fight for our lives. I was covering a crewmate who got wounded."

Vetra's features softened. "I heard. I'm glad you made it. How have you been? I mean, from before. When you were Alliance. You just kind of..."

"Fell off the grid, yeah," said Jon, leaning against one of the weapons lockers. "That was when I got recruited into the Initiative. Sorry I didn't try to reach out to you, V. Things were... complicated."

Vetra chuckled. "Why's everything complicated with you, Jon? What happened? Broke up with your girlfriend?"

The way Jon's eyes fell, and his silence that followed, struck Vetra. Something bad had happened to the normally-chipper guy in front of her. New Canton-bad.

"Heard of the Akuze incident?"

"Yeah. A single survivor. Thresher maw attack. Entire Alliance marine platoon wiped out. That... was you?"

Jon nodded; Vetra glimpsed tears in his eyes. He was good at hiding it, but Vetra had been around a lot of people, knew the tells. "You lost people?" she asked gently.

"My squad. Didn't know them long, but still... and someone I was very close to. We intended to go serious after I finished my rotation there, but..."

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter, anyway. Me being six hundred years away now."

Vetra could see the moment the light in Jon's eyes went out, closing himself off. "I... I don't know what to say, Jon. I'm... sorry for my girlfriend remark, that must have hit too close to home -"

"Just show me something better than these, Vetra Nyx. Knowing you, you'd have something stashed away."

She bristled at his use of her full name; she'd never heard him call her that before. And his sudden change in attitude. But she was at fault for bringing him to a place he never wanted to revisit. Vetra balled her fists at the frustration she felt. She breathed deeply. One thing he said rang true, though. She did stash something away. Right now, maybe focusing on the mission at hand was the best policy. They could talk later.

She forced herself to smile. "Well, what do you know. I have a most interesting selection over... here."

She walked over to the last weapons locker, feeding it a code from her omnitool. It sprang open. Jon frowned as he beheld the contents. Quirked an eyebrow. "Is that..."

"Yep."

"Rate of fire?"

"As fast as you can pull the trigger."

"Assault or sniper?"

"A little of both, actually. It's a prototype, never really completed testing. Maybe with your skills at modifying stuff, it could become something noteworthy."

Jon reached into the locker.

* * *

"Nice place you've found."

"Clean air. Plants. Helps me think."

Sara glanced at the rows of plants, a fine mist of water keeping them moist, watered. Still, it doesn't explain why Cora was digging through her crate with a... vigor. The sort of vigor that indicates someone was really frustrated at something. She tossed a beverage container onto the desk - a little harder than was necessary. The container thudded off the surface, fell onto its side, and rolled off the other end of the desk -

\- right into Sara's hand.

"Cora? Is there something on your mind?"

Cora huffed, standing, kicking the crate. A halo of purple - the crate positively rushed across the floor, slamming into the wall. The sudden move made Sara take two steps back in alarm. "Woah, Cora. What the hell was that?"

Cora leaned against the desk, crossing her arms. She stared at her feet. "It's just my biotics reacting to... all this. You know how powerful my biotics are, Sara."

Cora's been acting weird since Dad died, Sara noticed. She used to be pretty friendly, a great team leader, besides Dad. She remembered listening to Cora's stories of her time with the huntresses. Talein's Daughters. Sara remembered, a slight blush on her face, her intent to be like Cora. Powerful. Confident. Badass. All the things she wasn't. Not to mention, Cora turned out to be like a really cool big sis. Giving her dating advice, pointing out the more attractive male Pathfinder team candidates, shared her thoughts with Sara about Dad.

And now, she was so distant. Like something's changed with Dad's passing. _The Pathfinder job_ , Sara realized. Cora must have wanted it more than Sara had thought.

"It's about Dad, isn't it?"

Cora nodded tightly, but didn't speak.

"You were his second-in-command, Cora. Were you friends, too?"

Cora took a deep breath. She seemed to calm a little, seeing the reaction of the younger Ryder. "He was more a mentor than a friend. Prickly old bastard. But I respected that," she said. "People treat geniuses like they're made of cut glass. I didn't care how smart he was. I think," Cora tugged at part of her armor, adjusting the fit. "He'd liked someone not caring." She sighed, looking off into the distance. "A friend and mentor who trained you to be a Pathfinder. I prepped for two years as your father's second. Then..."

Cora looked at Sara, her gaze sharp, her voice crisp. "Then, he chooses _you?_ An untrained Pathfinder and all this mess to fix? _The hell was he thinking?"_

So much hostility in that single sentence; Sara flinched. She wanted to tell Cora that it wasn't her choice to be Pathfinder; she was out cold when it happened! _But that wouldn't change things right now as they stand, right?_ She was still the Pathfinder. S.A.M.'s linked to her on some deep level that even Dr. T'Perro was worried about messing with. What really worried Sara was the fact that her mentor in biotics and someone she considered a big sis was... _envious_ of her.

And envy breeds _contempt_.

Sara kept her voice level, trying to push the counterarguments out of her head. "Cora, I understand how you feel about this. But what's done is done. I need to know now, if this is going to be a problem?"

Cora seemed to get the in-between-the-lines message. She held a hand to her eyes, sighing. "I... don't want a rival, Sara. Just answers."

"Me too, Cora. You're not the only one wondering why."

Cora nodded. "It's done. Best I can do now is be your second, keep your father's mission alive. Then maybe we'll all get what we came out here for."

Sara bit her lip. "I'll try to live up to the title, Cora. But I'll need your help. We all could use some help. Things went out the airlock when we arrived. Now we've... just got to find our own way forward."

Cora smiled slightly, hefting her shotgun. " _Tactical improvisation,_ remember? Let's go get this done."

She straightened. Looked right at Sara, shotgun across her chest. "Pathfinder."

* * *

"You been to Eos, err... doc?"

"Call me Suvi, please," said the science officer, flashing Jon a smile as she looked up from her console. "We're all friends here, aren't we, Kallo?"

The salarian nodded. "Indeed, we are. Pleased to make your acquaintance...?"

Jon caught the inflection at the end. "Walker. Jonathan Chang Walker. Friends call me Jon," he smiled tentatively, looking between the two of them. Suvi's smile encouraged him to go on, say something more about himself. "I'm a combat engineer. Formerly Alliance."

"Ooh. That sounds exciting," cooed Suvi, swiveling in her seat.

"As is this trip to Eos," said Sara, coming in through the door, flanked by the lieutenant and Vetra. All of them were armed and armored, the sight wondrous to Suvi's eyes, the pathfinders for them all. "Let's hope it stays that way. Wouldn't want to be disappointed now, would we?"

Suvi chuckled at the quip. Kallo's lips curled, already imagining what they would find in the system. What a momentous occasion!

"Ready, Jon?"

"Ready, Pathfinder. On your go."

Suvi noted how Jon and Sara exchanged a nod of understanding, nothing spoken, how he took his place behind her, like a bodyguard, as Sara advanced to the Pathfinder's platform, looking out at the lightstreams. These two are close, in some way. Battle buddies, perhaps. She'd heard the reports of the Pathfinder team's disastrous landing on Habitat 7. They both had something in common there, survival through a pretty rough environment. Enough to -

"Entering the Pytheas System now, Pathfinder," announced Kallo. "Coming out of FTL in three, two, one."

* * *

 _The Milky Way starship appeared to have blinked into existence out of nowhere; such was the effect of disengaging of the ODSY drive, ending FTL travel. Internal dampeners ensured the occupants of the starship felt nothing as the ship slowed, entering the star system known on their charts as Pytheas, named after the humans' Greek explorer and geographer._

 _The system was just like any other in the Milky Way; clusters of planets around a central star, though they couldn't tell from their rather limited view from the starship. And, though they couldn't see it, a gaping black hole hung over them, like a medieval executioner's axe._

* * *

"We're on the far side of the system, Pathfinder. Adjusting course."

"Watch the asteroid belt, Kallo," warned Suvi.

"To Eos, then. What would have been our Habitat 1," mused Sara, a hand on the console.

Suvi swiped at her console. "Two failed outposts put an end to that idea," she said, glancing at Jon, as if explaining to him what happened to it. Jon knew, but was grateful the doctor was trying to make him feel included.

"It was supposed to be an easy first step," added Kallo dryly. "Until no one else showed."

"Maybe we can turn things around," said Sara, confidence in her voice. Not in her mind.

Kallo maneuvered the Tempest smartly through the kilometers-wide ring of space rocks. "Course laid in for Eos."

No one felt anything as the ship accelerated. They sped past the belt, two planets, the system's star on their left, the interior of the bridge bathed in a bright orange glow as they passed.

"Why has S.A.M. altered frequency detection?" asked Suvi, frowning.

"What are we hearing, Sam?" queried Sara, glancing at the ceiling.

" _There is a signal, Pathfinder. I recommend an immediate examination of Eos._ "

The bridge fell silent as they neared the planet. Eos was a light brown sphere, and... nothing much else. No blue oceans. No cloud cover. But S.A.M. managed to see what they couldn't, chiming, " _A mirror of the signal on Habitat 7. Possible atmospheric manipulation._ "

"Is that possible?" exclaimed Suvi.

Sara's jaw tightened. "We'll find out. If it is like Habitat 7, no doubt we'll run into the kett."

"Integrating search area from S.A.M. How he pulled that mystery signal through the storms, I have no idea." The salarian sounded impressed, checking a holo on his right.

Suvi looked over at him. "I know, right? Multisensory neural collation. Amazing," she breathed.

Jon had no idea what Suvi was talking about.

" _Factory fresh across the board. Spinning up the compensators,_ " came the voice of Gil Brodie over the comms.

"You're already tuning the displays?" Kallo sounded indignant, almost angry, even. Suvi calmed the salarian, saying, "Hush, Kallo. We'll get a better read in this pass than the Nexus had in months."

The salarian grumbled to himself, but relented.

Sara raised a hand to block out the light reflected off the planet's surface, trying to see past all that brown for anything that could catch her eye. Nothing.

"Pathfinder? Ready for descent!" said Kallo.

Sara turned to look at everyone on the bridge. Kallo. Suvi. Cora. Vetra.

And Jon, of course. His helmet under his arm, the light illuminating his face in a way that made him look... different. Younger. Eager. He shot her a smile, giving her a thumbs-up.

Sara felt giddy as she smiled back. This was the moment they've all been waiting for.

She nodded at Kallo, turning to look out the viewport, hands on the console slightly sweaty as she pondered what they will find down there.

"Kallo? Take us down."

Suvi grinned. "You have no idea how long I've wanted a Pathfinder to say that!"


	19. Promise

A low whistle greeted the team of four as they stepped onto the surface of Eos, the sound picked up and enhanced by their suits' external sensors. Sand swirled around them, dancing along the edges of Vetra's turian armor, hampering their vision; underfoot, it was soft, almost like mud, the sand pulling their feet in wherever they deigned to step. Jon's weapon was up immediately, Cora mirroring his movements, covering their other side, but within seconds it was clear that visibility was so poor that they would be unable to see anything within five meters, let alone a distant enemy, so they lowered their weapons, though the two combat veterans kept a wary eye out, watching for threats to the team. Vetra Nyx held a hand up to her helmeted face, trying futilely to see into the distance.

Sara Ryder, Pathfinder, just... stared.

This wasn't exactly what she was expecting, Eos. She knew - from the data packets she'd received from the Nexus - that it was somewhat a dangerous world, thanks to radiation and sandstorms, but not like _this_. She couldn't even see the light from the nearest star slanting through all that sand in the air. She reached a hand out to grab a fistful of sand; the particles simply danced around them and were whipped away by the wind.

Jon checked his omnitool. "Tail-end of a sandstorm," he noted. "It's moving due west of here. Radiation is present, but minimal, level one."

Cora nodded, though not one of them could see the gesture. "Copy that, Walker."

" _Pathfinder team, comm check,_ " piped Suvi in their helmets.

They all chorused an affirmative. " _We landed as we did because we need the maximum amount of time possible between sandstorms, so that you can explore more. According to Sam, the next sandstorm is due in two hours, standard time,_ " briefed Suvi. " _The current sandstorm was weak enough that Kallo felt it justified to land._ "

Jon looked around him, then at Cora, the two of them formerly trained by Alec Ryder. _This is the tail-end of a_ weak _storm?_

"We should count ourselves lucky that we can even walk," said Cora, her shotgun low-ready. "Let's make the most of the time we have. Doctor Anwar, if we can't make it back to the Tempest in time, can we take shelter within Site One?"

" _Ehh... I suppose you could, but the survivors of the Promise team didn't bring any structural integrity reports with them. It's best if you could check that first before deciding. Updating your HUDs with data from the Tempest's external sensors. The storm's clearing up; you should be able to see better now._ "

The bright green outlines of several buildings appeared on Jon's faceplate, laid over his vision. Each building was tagged helpfully by the doctor, enabling them to know which one's which. And she was right; already Jon could see shafts of light through the swirling sand, the star somewhere above and to their left.

They waited.

"Uhh. Pathfinder?"

Sara looked quizzically at Vetra. "What is it, Vetra?"

Vetra shrugged, gesturing with the barrel of her stubby assault rifle. "Maybe... lead the way? Daylight's burning."

If only the sand could swallow her at that very moment! Sara went beet-red, averting her gaze, though Vetra couldn't see her face. She was the Pathfinder now, not a grunt waiting for her CO's orders! She chuckled softly, reaching for her Avenger, shaking her head slightly. "You're right, Vetra. Come on, team."

They advanced, Sara leading slightly, Vetra taking up the rear. Their progress was slow, moving through sand that came up to their ankles, but eventually they made it up the incline that led to Site One proper, the wind dying down, their vision getting clearer and clearer by the minute, the gritty sound of sand beneath their soles now loud in the quiet. Sara crested the incline, coming face-to-face with an ice-blue shield wall, the masts on either side of her.

" _Site One's environmental shields, Pathfinder,"_ chimed S.A.M. in her ears. _"It is safe to walk through._ "

Sara reached a hand out, stepping forward. There was a slight tingle where her hand went through the... energy? Electricity? A tingle that slowly went up her arm as she pushed the rest of herself through, Vetra exclaiming, "Heh. That tickles."

She paused to take in the scene, her vision totally clear.

* * *

 _The Tempest leveled out gently, Kallo directing the ship like it was an extension of his body, effortless. "Atmo entry successful," he looked around at them, at Suvi, a smile tugging at the corner of his wide mouth. "Obviously."_

 _Sara released a breath she didn't realize she was holding, and chuckled to hide the tension she felt. "Great job, Kallo," she quipped, pretending to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, surreptitiously dabbing the sweat off her brow in the same motion. She supposed it was the entry that rattled her, so similar to their entry back on Habitat Seven, that it brought back the memory of her being pulled out the shuttle. Three fingers on her left hand were still sore from that incident; she flexed them unconsciously._

 _"Where are we landing?"_

 _"Site One. It was named 'Promise,' the first Initiative outpost to be established here in the Andromeda Galaxy. But it didn't last long. Ironic," commented the salarian._

 _"KALLO!" Suvi shot a scandalized look at the salarian before addressing Sara, a frown on her - Sara blushed a little - rather cute face. "The Promise team managed to set up shield masts around a general area, Pathfinder, to filter out most of the rads from the sandstorms. They managed to establish a working outpost - barely - before the kett attacked; that singular event caused them to abandon the outpost, after months of fruitless progress on trying to cultivate crops, according to the survivors."_

 _"_ Warning: radiation levels rising, _" said S.A.M. "_ Variable radiation levels detected across the surface of Eos. Lethal levels of radiation detected. _"_

 _"How... lethal, Sam? Can't be worse than what the Promise team managed to endure," queried Suvi, her eyebrows rising slowly at the A.I.'s inflection. She pulled Eos' rad report from the Tempest's archives for cross-reference._

 _"The maximum level of radiation detected is approximately fifty-five milisieverts per hour in some areas, Doctor Anwar. They correspond with the centers of storms, or with anomalies on the ground that I can confirm now are pockets of Scourge."_

 _Suvi made a strangled noise; even Kallo looked over in alarm, the Tempest drifting for a moment. "But... but..." she spluttered, before straightening in her seat, a look of disbelief on her face. "How is that possible?! That's twice the radiation from the last orbital scan! A level three hazard!"_

* * *

Site One. Promise.

The first thing that struck Sara was how much brown there was, so many shades of it - beige to beaver, cocoa to khaki, the rocks, the dust beneath their feet, even the buildings themselves had been sandblasted to a uniform light brown. The outpost was established at the base of a cliff on their right, the buildings in a rough U shape around a pond on their left. They were at the tip of the left arm of the U, the curve of the U in the distance, where a huge structure - three huge hooplike structures embedded in the ground, towered over the entire outpost and even over the cliff, casting long shadows across the near-vertical rock.

Sara knelt and scooped up a handful of sand, letting it pour between her fingers, getting a feel of the planet, as it were. Here they were, at last. Site One, Eos. She'd made it further than any Pathfinder by being here, ready to turn things around on the Nexus, make it a home for all of them.

 _I need to make this work. I have to. For everyone._

According to Suvi's info overlay, all the outpost's main buildings - minifacturing, management offices and computer mainframe - were all right in front of them, situated along the left arm of the U. The power relay station was off to their left, the multistoried building like a sentinel, a guard tower, the topmost story comprised entirely of reinforced plastiglass, giving the officer there a full three-sixty view of everything. Numerous power cables, some as thick as Jon's forearm, led from the power relay station to various missile-shaped objects around the outpost, which was tagged by Suvi as power generators. _Haphazard, the way they set up the power grid,_ Jon mused. _All over the place. But then again, they were working in barely-survivable conditions._

The lieutenant pointed to the large building on their right, where a red light blinked on the roof. "There. Outpost central control. That red light's the scanner mast."

* * *

 _"Can't you just drop us off right at the atmospheric processor?"_

 _Kallo tutted, holding up a finger. "Several things, Pathfinder. Right now, sandstorms are ravaging the surface of Eos as we speak." Kallo pointed at the planet in the frontal viewport, the light-brown of the planet lending the bridge a pleasant, not-too-bright glow, reflected in the salarian's wide eyes as he turned in his seat to brief Sara. "It would be suicidal to just pick a spot and go right in. The Tempest is my baby, but powerful as she is, she's still just a Survey Ship, not a heavier starship like a frigate. She can't handle crosswinds that could twist metal and bury shuttles."_

 _Sara's confusion must have registered on her face, for Suvi added helpfully, "When they were evacuating, one of the Promise team's shuttles was caught by the leading edge of a big sandstorm. They were blown off course, and the winds were so strong they... tore the shuttle in half. All crew aboard were lost."_

 _Sara blanched._

 _"And secondly," continued Kallo._ " _S.A.M. couldn't find the processor; there's something in the atmosphere that's messing with our downward sweep patterns."_

 _"_ Pilot Jath is correct, Pathfinder. While I am able to retrieve a partial read of Eos, my scans have been interrupted by atmospheric anomalies, _" said S.A.M. "_ I have detected traces of the same anomalies on the ground. I recommend caution when encountering one. _"_

 _"Therein lies the rub, Pathfinder," concluded Kallo, lacing his fingers behind his head, sinking back into his seat. "Best I can do is set you down at an established safe zone, and the only one right now is Site One. Once you've gotten a fix on the processor's position, I can probably drop you there. If there are no sandstorms."_

 _"Or," chimed in Suvi excitedly. "We can use the planetwide scan to look for an ND-1 Nomad. Those ATVs are designed to withstand harsh conditions!"_

 _"Don't count on it, sweetheart," said Gil Brodie over the comm. "I just told the Pathfinder about how the Nexus leadership wasted good hardware, Nomads included. It'll take some sort of divine intervention to find one down there."_

* * *

For Jon, the sight of Site One against the background that was Eos, reminded him of those deserts in the U.N.A.S. he'd seen in documentaries on screens in waiting areas he'd been in while with the Alliance. Like the Grand Canyon in America, towering plateaus with deep canyons in between, the ground rocky and uneven. Or even Mars, where he'd spent a month training with Alec Ryder at The Crater, though Eos wasn't as red as the Red Planet, a desaturated version of it, perhaps...

He scanned the structures with both his eyes and the Tempest's external sensors. Now that the weather had cleared up considerably, they were able to walk upright again, and the Tempest could provide good scan coverage, provide them with environmental information. All the buildings seemed to be intact, structural integrity preserved, none tilted over or on their sides. He adjusted a setting on the scope of the Raptor that Vetra provided him with, the weapon shivering slightly in his gauntleted hand. She told him that it was a fresh prototype, barely out the experimental stages, and that the Alliance had only a few units for testing, the weapon itself of turian design. That's why it lacked the M-designation standard of all Alliance weaponry. And also explained why Jon had never seen one before.

But its weight was perfect, just slightly lighter than the Mattock he'd lost. And it was a hybrid assault/sniper rifle, something Jon had never seen before, but was eager to try out.

"Clear so far," muttered Cora, doing the same thing as Jon, her shotgun up. "Don't see any movement. Walker, get up on that boulder and provide overwatch. We don't know if any kett had taken shelter here from the storm."

"Aye, lieutenant." Jon took a running leap and boosted himself up in one motion, then boosted again, pushing off the side of the boulder, grasping the edge at the top, and disappeared from view.

Sara felt marginally safer, now that Jon was watching their backs. Gripping her Avenger, she moved to the central control building, eyes darting from rock to alien tree with bulbs for leaves, from prefab building to that large shipping container devoid of markings, to the hooplike structures in the distance to the pond on her left, its surface calm, mirrorlike.

A short flight of stairs, and she was at the red-ringed door leading into central control. Sara raised her hand, letting the door panel read her security clearance. "Hmm."

"What is it, Pathfinder?"

"The door's locked in standby mode. Power is minimal. Sam?"

" _One moment, Pathfinder... the outpost's power relay station is currently offline. To gain full functionality of all systems, it must be activated._ "

" _Lieutenant, the coast is clear. I'm closest to the station, I can power the grid up._ "

"Roger that, Walker. Vetra, go with him. I'd prefer everyone to have someone watching their backs."

"You got it, Harper," said the turian, raising her weapon in acknowledgement, jogging off.

"It's odd, though, Sara."

Sara looked up from her omnitool, where she was looking through the door's logs. "What is?"

Cora motioned to Sara. The Pathfinder disengaged her omnitool, stepping aside to allow Cora to access the panel. "Why is the power relay station offline? According to the last logs of the Promise team, they left everything as-is when the kett attacked and forced them to abandon the outpost."

"Meaning... the power should be on. Those generators we passed just now was silent," noted Sara. Cora nodded grimly. "You think someone was here? Switched the power off? Maybe it's the lack of maintenance for months. In these conditions, the V.I.s decided to conserve power, auto switch-off, perhaps?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure. I suppose we'll find the reason once we get the power back -"

" _Lieutenant? Sara? You need to see this,_ " came Jon's voice over the comm.

* * *

Doctor Suvi Anwar made a gleeful sound in her throat as raw data began pouring in from the Pathfinder team, their suits collecting all sorts of information from the environment. But she was chiefly interested in the geological data - when Sara ran that fistful of sand through her fingers, she was unable to let out a squeal of delight as a spike in data came in, the Pathfinder's suit sensors feeding her a treasure trove of information regarding Site One's soil composition.

"Suvi?"

Kallo's tentative question was lost on the science officer as she began running the data through her console, fingers flying across holos, S.A.M. assisting her in sorting and collating _everything_. She began to hum a tune that only she knew, comparing what she was seeing with what she had in her head; astrophysics and molecular biology were beyond Kallo, the data spilling across Suvi's console gibberish to him. His field of expertise was starship engineering and piloting, dammit!

Kallo sank slowly into his seat, sighing. He never knew that the doctor was this much of a nerd, but she was one of the most agreeable persons he had the fortune to meet, much less work with. The same couldn't be said of that engineer poking around the Tempest's drive core though... he pursed his lips as he sat up, checking on the drive core's status. He frowned as he noted that some of his calibrations were off. His calibrations were _never_ off; he'd triple-checked all the systems before they flew out to meet the Pathfinder, unless...

He reached out to open a comm channel to Gil Brodie, ready to ask if he had tweaked some settings, when the combat engineer's voice came through the comm, flat, different from his earlier transmissions.

" _Lieutenant? Sara? You need to see this._ "

" _What is it, Walker?_ "

The silence stretched. Suvi looked up, shifting all her work aside, pulling up a live feed from the combat engineer's helmet to see what was the matter. Kallo did the same on his console. She blinked once, and felt her stomach lurch unpleasantly. Kallo muttered something indecipherable, then turned to look at her.

"Well, that escalated quickly," he said dryly. He opened a comm channel to the medical bay.

"Doctor T'Perro?"

* * *

Vetra nudged the corpse with a boot as Sara and the lieutenant slowed to a walk, coming up to her. Jon had gone up to the power relay station, attempting to open the door.

"Got a dead one here. Looks like they became someone's dinner."

Cora knelt to check the corpse, running her wrist-mounted scanner across the remains. There was so little remaining of whoever it was, half-buried in rust-colored sand, but it was obvious that the person's head and limbs were all missing. The only reason Walker and the turian found the corpse, she supposed, was that the power relay station provided shade from the sandstorm, preventing too much sand from being deposited atop the body. Else, they wouldn't have known it was there.

" _Got the door open,_ " said Jon. " _Looking for the command console. A lot of stuff here; looks like salvage. Recent._ "

Sara squatted next to Cora, trying hard to hide the fact that she found the scene in front of her disturbing. As if missing the head and limbs weren't enough, the stumps that remained dripped with gore and strands of torn tissue, caked in sand, the blood turning it rust-brown. The chestpiece had multiple stab marks in them, the underarmor underneath was completely stained red, the stomach nothing but a pit of congealing blood, chunks of unidentifiable body parts floating in it.

 _Like soup._

Sara recoiled mentally as the thought entered her mind, her stomach turning over. She swallowed hard, the taste of bile on her tongue. She was used to violence, and had seen proof of killshots before - she'd fought slavers during her time with Silva, and saw Kirkland's biotiball-sized killshot back on Habitat Seven - but this was definitely not the result of a straight-up firefight. Someone, or something, had deliberately done this.

"Hmm," said Cora, reading the results of the scan off her omnitool. "Not asari, since their blood isn't red. Human male. Standard human Initiative armor. Cause of death were most likely these -" she pointed at the stab marks in the chestpiece. "- and his head and arms and legs were torn off after he was dead. Question is, by whom?"

"Poor bastard," mumbled Vetra. "Bad enough he'd died so far from home, much less having his corpse desecrated like this."

"These stab marks, they went clean through, to the torso underneath," continued Cora, running a finger along the corpse's chestpiece, pausing at each stab mark. "Whatever he was stabbed with, it's hard enough to penetrate Initiative armor. Some kind of metal? Or bone?"

Sara coughed to hide her discomfort, and to clear her throat. "Could it be the kett?"

Vetra shook her head. "Had a few run-ins with them before the uprising. They don't use blades, far as I can tell. They just shoot with their plasma weaponry. High-energy. More likely you'd see burn marks on kett victims. This is something new, even to me. Maybe your A.I. can shed some light on this."

" _Lieutenant Harper's assessment is correct, Pathfinder. This person was killed by multiple stab wounds to the chest, two of which pierced his heart._ "

"Sam, who was this person?" asked Cora.

" _Cross-referencing DNA with Nexus records._ "

" _Pathfinder? I've conducted a quick analysis of the corpse,_ " came Lexi T'Perro's voice over the comm. " _The Promise team encountered some local wildlife during their time here, some sort of arthropod. Carnivorous. Kaerkyns, they are called. The deceased may have been ambushed and killed by these kaerkyns, then eaten. He's been dead for hours now, maybe three or four. The timeline corresponds to before the sandstorm that had just passed._ "

The three jerked in surprise as a deep thrum filled the air, as intent as they were studying the body - they could feel the vibrations through their armor - weapons coming up, pointed at the Initiative power generator next to them, a missile-shaped structure thrice Vetra's height.

"Power's online, Sara. I got the power relay up and running," reported Jon, boots clanging on the stairs as he descended. "Shame about the dead guy. But there's nothing we can do for him now. I suppose we can send in a cleanup crew for him later, lieutenant?"

Cora nodded, folding her shotgun away. "Right. Good work on getting the power back on, Walker."

"Just doing my job, ma'am," Jon shrugged.

"Let's get that scanner mast working."

" _Match found, Lieutenant Harper. Clancy Arquist, payload officer. He was stationed in Hangar Bay A on the Nexus,_ " said S.A.M. as they made their way back to central control.

"What is a P.O. doing here on Eos?" wondered Cora.

"After the uprising, it was pretty much a everyone-for-themselves situation among the exiles," said Vetra, her long legs allowing her to keep pace easily with the humans. "Some people on the Nexus had the same idea; they'd lost their confidence in the leadership, ever since Jien Garson died. Clancy must have used his clearance to do a little salvaging, earn an extra credit or two on the side."

She sounded impressed by Arquist's actions. Cora, however, grunted in disapproval.

"You alright, Sara?" asked Jon, angling his head Sara's way. His brown eyes were nearly blocked out by the reflection of the buildings, but she could sense his curiosity, his concern at her well-being. Sara smiled to herself and nodded, trying to push the bloody image of Clancy Arquist's mangled body out of her mind. "Yeah. A little rattled, but I'm alright."

She held her hand up to the door panel. This time, it glowed green, recognizing the Pathfinder designation on Sara's omnitool, the door green-ringed, parting down the middle with a hiss. Sara brought her weapon up, glancing each of her squadmates in turn, before leading the way in.

The lights came on as entered, looking around. To their right was what Sara presumed to be the outpost's mainframe computer, a singular seat facing an impressive console array. As she approached the array, the wall, which she assumed was painted black, flashed to life, a wallscreen, reboot process complete now that power has been restored. Sara eased herself into the seat, tapping at several holos, trying to gain access to the system.

" _Please hold, Pathfinder. Accessing Site One's mainframe._ "

It was a surreal feeling, being here. The four of them were the first to be here after months, when everyone else had given up on the mission, all hope lost. Jon cast his eyes about, noting the wilted plants in their planter in the center of the room, a weapon rack beside the door, all the mass effect fields disengaged, not a single weapon in sight. There were two internal doors, leading further into the prefab, both without any green or red rings, general-access. Jon motioned to the lieutenant, indicating he would take the left one, his weapon ready. She nodded and indicated she would take the remaining door. "Behind you, Jon," whispered Vetra, her voice thick with apprehension. Jon nodded, and palmed the door panel.

It was a rec room, minifacturing at the far end; Jon recognized the distinct shapes of lightweight fabricators through the gloom. He moved slowly into the rec room, watching his footing, though there hadn't been anyone here in months. A thick layer of dust covered everything, the result of the air recyclers being offline for so long.

"Abandoned," whispered Vetra. Jon turned slightly, holding a finger up to where his lips were on the faceplate; further words died on Vetra's lips, and she simply nodded, adjusting her grip on her rifle, stooping over, nearly a crouch. They moved through the rec room with barely a sound, Jon's finger snug against the Raptor's trigger, a light pull was all that was needed to send a sliver of death spinning down the weapon's barrel. He nearly jumped as the rec room's lights came on in response to his presence, pausing a moment, blinking hard, willing his heart to calm, loosening his grip on his rifle for a moment. Vetra wasn't as disciplined; she yelped at the sudden brightness, slamming into a wall-mounted cupboard.

They froze, waiting for the hail of shots that was sure to come their way. When nothing happened for five heartbeats, Jon padded forward, a crouch, and swung into the minifacturing plant, his weapon up.

It was empty.

Jon sighed, lowering his weapon, his shoulders loosening as the tension seeped from him. "Clear!" He walked over to where Vetra was scrabbling for a handhold, buried in empty boxes that had fallen from the cupboard she knocked into, and pulled her to her feet. "Thanks."

The lieutenant came into the rec room, her shotgun preceding her. "Clear on my end, too. What happened?"

Vetra dusted herself off. "Nothing." She flashed the lieutenant a wide smile, hands on her hips, the picture of _oh-nothing's-wrong-at-all, honest_.

Jon folded his weapon away, reaching for the rec room's window panel. "She got spooked by the lights coming on, lieutenant."

Vetra shot a dirty look Jon's way. Jon didn't notice, selecting an option from the panel. There was a groan from somewhere above them, the external shutters folding away, hinges protesting, revealing the clear reinforced plastiglass wall next to them, a view of the pond, the orange of the sky outside, starlight filtering in.

The view was idyllic. Jon imagined what it was like to be a member of the Promise team, a cold beverage in hand, sitting here and watching the starset after a long day of work out in the field. An alien world, they being the first to be here, watching the alien trees sway in the wind, counting ripples in the pond, then turning back to gathering more data, writing reports. Kind of pretty, if you ignored the fact that there were sandstorms out there beyond the walls that carried DNA-twisting radiation, not knowing that in a matter of weeks, the entire mission was going to be scrubbed, half his colleagues dead from kett attacks and from Eos itself.

Vetra poked at a shapeless lump on the rec room's prep table, the lump blackened, a butter knife next to it. She noted the torn-open ration packs all along the prep table, some opened neatly along the designated _cut-here_ line, some simply ripped open, but all having one thing in common - they were empty.

"Hmm. Just like the reports," said the lieutenant, now poking at the shapeless lump. "The Promise team was close to starving when the kett attacked. Nexus couldn't get through to them through the sandstorms, and having to deal with the uprising..."

"Bad day gone worse," agreed Vetra, gathering up all the expended ration packs she could see, depositing them in a pile at the far end of the prep table. Her hand brushed against a datapad, almost invisible under a thick layer of dust. She lifted it, brushing the thick grey clods off the glass.

"Got a log here," she noted.

* * *

 _Log: Supply situation_

 _Login: Technician Kay Farthingale_

 _They divided the rations again. Tonight's menu: soup with a couple of crackers each. Hope we're not too hungry to prop up the south building tomorrow, but there's nothing else for it. Can't forage because the weather's deadly, can't grow crops in those winds, and the Nexus can't feed us and themselves... No, don't think about it. There's talk going around of getting back to the Nexus, but if we can't find an answer, who can? We dared put our bootprints here. We were first! Me and Theo promised to stick it out, even if we ended up being the last._

 _END LOG_

 _P.S. Theo, if you are reading this, I've stashed enough food away to make a mean sandwich, like how mama used to. Figured you'll need the calories, since you're doing most of the hard work. Cabinet 3 in the rec area. You know the code. Love you._

* * *

Vetra shook her head as she read the log out loud, a sigh escaping her.

Cora sat in one of the window seats, linking her omnitool to the outpost's network. "There's a whole backlog of logs here," she noted, flicking her finger from page to page. "They were queued, but were never sent to the Nexus." Reading the logs, she could see the pattern amongst the Promise crew: first, it was excitement and disbelief, a whole lot of descriptive text about the planet, and the horrendous environment they found themselves in; then relief, when they'd finally set up the shield masts, and sadness when they had to carry out a quick funeral for some of their colleagues who'd perished; weariness and simmering discontent as, after months, the botany team couldn't grow anything, even after protecting the seedlings from the radiation and the near-constant wind, and that's not including the feelings that were had when they found out the water from the pond required nonstandard filtering, something in short supply. Then, desperation, as more and more crew began writing self-motivation logs to themselves and each other, a reminder to themselves that things will turn around, somehow.

Cora found the outpost manager's own logs, locked away behind a flimsy password, which S.A.M. cracked in a second. She keyed up the final log, letting the audio play.

 _Sandstorms, radiation. What the hell was Addison thinking, sending us here? Eos might've looked great back in the Milky Way - but up close, it's a hellscape! Farthingale's on my case to stay positive. Put on a brave face for the rest of the team. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm going to die out here. Look at the progress we've made so far - or rather, the lack of it! It's no longer a matter of making the Nexus happy; it's life-or-death here. My team's doing their best, but this damned planet just isn't cooperating with -_

Cora looked up, her lips twisted. _Not even Huntress Theris could make the situation any better, had she been here. Goddess!_

"Alright team," said Sara, coming into the rec room. "Sam's doing a planetwide sweep now. Should take about twenty-odd minutes, so we should have a look around the outpost in the meantime."

Almost automatically, as if she was waiting for Sara to say that, Vetra's hand shot into the air, the turian bouncing excitedly. "Dibs on the power relay station. Jon said there's salvage there; I'll sort through them, see what we can bring back with us, what we can use."

The lieutenant frowned as an alert popped up on her omnitool. "Uh oh. The filtration units over by the water treatment plant are crapping out; I can check that, Pathfinder. What about you?"

Sara rubbed at a spot on her faceplate. "I'll take the research center. Gotta be something there that the Initiative could use. If it's still standing."

" _Aye, do send over anything you find, Pathfinder,_ " chimed Suvi.

"I'll stay with Sara, lieutenant," said Jon before he could stop himself. Sara angled her head his way, but said nothing. But if the lieutenant found his statement strange, she didn't show it. On the contrary, she nodded. "That'll be a good idea, Walker. Keep an eye out for anything odd."

"Roger that, LT."

Sara wanted to open her mouth to protest. She can handle herself; Dad did teach her how to defend herself, back when she and Scott were teenagers, and Alliance military training was nothing if not rigorous, drilling recruits in both offense and defense until they could pull off tactics without thinking. But the memory of those people back at the docking bay, calling out to her, " _Pathfinder!_ " stilled her tongue. She's the Pathfinder now, the only one the Initiative has. The extra protection was understandable, so Sara swallowed her words, settling for drawing her Avenger. She didn't like the idea of having someone following her around like a bodyguard, but at least it was Jon. If it were anyone else she would have kicked up a fuss.

"On you, Pathfinder," the man in question nodded at her, ready to protect her, to fulfill Dad's last wish. Sara blushed a little at the romanticism of it, lowering her head, but the harsh reality of Dad's death came crashing back to the forefront of her mind all over again, reminding her why she was here on Eos in the first place, Cora her second, Jon looking at her in earnest, pushing any pleasant thoughts out of her mind, leaving nothing behind but the cold practicality of the requirements of the job that was thrust upon her.

That was why she simply grunted in acknowledgement, pushing past Jon a little too roughly, the doors parting for her, her boots clanging on the platform outside, trembling slightly at the mix of emotions she was feeling at the moment.

Jon raised an eyebrow at the lieutenant, who shrugged.

* * *

Vetra let out an impressed sound deep in her throat as she beheld the contents of the power relay station.

Just like in central control, there was a console array, the entire thing a mass of blinking lights, multiple holoscreens up, data scrolling past them, nothing she could read, could understand. And yet Jonathan could restore power to the grid, implying some sort of advanced technical skill that she herself lacked. How much he'd changed since the last time she saw him, on the Citadel, on shore leave after months in the Skyllian Verge! A young, idealistic human male, on course for a fulfilling career in the Alliance after what happened to him on Earth, now a cautious adult, very soldierly, professional, cynical.

She was grateful that he still recognized her, remembered her. Trusted her. Even after so long - it's just a year or so, far shorter than the time she'd known Ka'aira - but still. Tending bar in the Lower Wards of the Citadel was dreary, the same faces she knew and hated coming in all the time, but it was what she needed to do to gain more information on that score...

Vetra shook a small box lying on the array slightly, the contents rattling. XZ-P49 electronic components, very rare. She remembered procuring a crateful of them for Kesh after her Citadel stint, taking them off the hands of a well-known raider in the Traverse - after some 'negotiations'. She smiled at the memory; the raider was feared for his brutality, not his intellect, and so it was Vetra and her crew made off with almost everything the bastard had while he was busy trying to curdle their blood by describing in detail what he would do to them when he got his hands on them.

Monologues. Never a good idea to begin with, a waste of time.

Vetra sifted carefully through the multiple crates scattered across the room's floor, each weatherworn but still intact, filled to the brim with goodies taken from Site One - and possibly beyond - that Vetra knew would benefit the Nexus greatly. Spare parts. Weapons. Even some of that alien tech she'd heard of, the smooth ones with blue lines running through them - she held up an urn-sized _thing_ , looking at it from all angles, not knowing what it did. Clancy Arquist had most certainly been busy.

She spied a datapad amongst the clutter, picking it up.

 _Crazy Blue's at it again, said she almost had a breakthrough. I, for one, had enough of this place; come morn, I'll be doing one last sweep of Site One for anything I have missed, then getting on the express ride back to the Nexus. Going to fetch me some real good prices on some of the stuff I've managed to salvage._

A vibration through the walls, through the soles of her feet. Vetra replaced the alien tech in its crate, using her omnitool to control the three-sixty window's polarization, opening a small clear square for her to look out of, see what's going on. It sure wasn't the Tempest taking off - that ship had some heavy-duty dampeners to reduce its noise signature, and she'd seen the specs: the Tempest could stake a claim as one of the stealthiest ships, were they back in the Milky -

Vetra raised a hand to her head, touching the comm button on the side of her visor.

"Pathfinder? We have company."

* * *

"Well, what do you know? The outpost's research center is still intact," said Sara, a giddy look on her face as she stepped into the building.

" _Oh, ye of little faith, Ryder. Of course it is!_ " exclaimed Suvi. " _Hit me with anything you can get your hands on!_ "

Jon folded his weapon away; the research center was just one big room, and it was obvious at first glance that there was no one inside, no place for anyone to take cover behind, the tables flat against the wall. It was scientific equipment galore inside, a lot of them looking like the equipment that Lexi used.

Sara cast her gaze around, her arms wide, taking in everything. She could feel the atmosphere of knowledge as she pulled up a chair to a console, bringing it out of standby mode, ready to see what the Promise team had managed to glean from the planet. Her fingers danced nimbly across the holokeys, a smile on her face as she began accessing agriculture notes and technological breakthroughs the Promise team made.

" _Research was always key to the Initiative,_ " said Suvi. " _We'll need it here, too._ "

Sara made a sound of agreement as she came across a particularly clever workaround that impressed her, a method she'd never thought about, using tech that way. "This is how we survive in Andromeda," she replied. "Ingenuity on the ground."

Jon leaned against the wall, watching Sara work. The fire in her eyes burned bright, the first time he'd seen her like this ever since meeting her. She was just like Lexi - an intellect, one who uses their brains more than brawn, learning about stuff so that everyone could benefit from the gained knowledge. It intimidated him somewhat, thinking about how Sara was far more knowledgeable than he was, but then he remembered: he'd barely made it through the Alliance's entry test back in New York, and yet here he was, a member of the Pathfinder team, putting his skills to good use, enabling the Pathfinder to do her job.

That calmed his thoughts somewhat.

He liked the way she was so fiercely concentrating on the screens, keying up datasheet after datasheet, comming Suvi, sending over packets of data for decryption and analysis. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the glow of the screens, orange on blue, the contrast sharp, her fingers dancing to a tune, a ballet that he could perceive, appreciate. Sara Ryder was a woman of focus, and it showed, despite her earlier awkwardness with him, the stumbling she went through, getting warmed up to the role Alec Ryder passed to her. Jon averted his gaze as he recalled that day he had one of the rare few disagreements with the man, the moment where he declined accepting a S.A.M. implant. He wondered back then why Alec Ryder was so insistent on the implant; on the flip side, Ryder must have been equally confounded as to why Jon was strongly against the idea.

And now, here he was, beginning to fulfill his promise to Alec Ryder, to protect his daughter, Sara, even though they barely knew each other, the only bond they have born of battle. In a moment of horror, Jon wondered how would he carry out his mission if Sara had found herself a significant other, who would take over Jon's job, so to speak, of caring for Sara for the rest of her life. Oh, yes, the rest of her life; Jon was determined to see the mission through to the end, whether it was hers, or his own. And he would gladly lay his life on the line for Sara Ryder.

Jonathan paused his train of thought. _My life, for Sara's? Why am I taking this so personally?_

Alec Ryder spoke to him, the grey-haired N7 in his mind's eye, his baritone voice in Jon's ear as he briefed him on... And suddenly Jon remembered the reason; it justified every argument why he needed to make this work. Purely professional, of course, though he wouldn't deny that Sara was certainly an attractive woman...

Jon shook his head violently to dispel the thought.

"You alright?"

Jon chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, thanks, Sara. Just remembered something your Dad said to me, that's all."

Sara nodded, still a little cold towards him, not bothering to ask further, delving right back into the research. Jon felt a twinge of something as he settled back against the wall. Sadness? Disappointment? What was he expecting from her?

Vetra's voice sounded in his ear, low, urgent. Jon pushed himself off the wall in alarm, drawing his Raptor, speccing his HUD for combat, all in under two seconds, Sara looking up at the sudden movement before the transmission registered, drawing her own weapon.

" _Pathfinder? We have company._ "

* * *

"Where'd that - Pathfinder, a kett ship - no, two ships! - just came out of nowhere! They're dropping kett into Site One!" exclaimed Kallo, his voice high. He swiped at his controls. "Why didn't the external sensors pick them up?!"

Suvi's blood turned to ice. She gestured with a hand, shifting all the data pouring in from the research lab aside, pulling up an external view on her screen.

Two kett ships - dropships, or shuttles, judging by their sizes - hovered over Site One, multiple kett stepping out from their interiors and slamming into the ground, throwing up puffs of dust and sand, one, two, three, four... in total, fifteen kett and one larger, brutish kett, toting a weapon that made the hairs on the back of Suvi's neck stand. She fumbled for the comm holo, trying hard not to let her voice shake as she reported what she'd seen.

"Pathfinder? Sixteen of them, one of them a huge one. It's carrying a very big gun."

" _Roger that, doc,_ " came the combat engineer's voice. What was his name again - Jonathan, that was it. Jonathan sounded calm and collected as he spoke, the total opposite of what Suvi was feeling right now, which made her worry even more as she slumped back into her seat, cursing at her inability to help the team.

Kallo grunted in approval and nodded to himself. "Camo engaged," he said. "They've not seen us. All of them are headed your way, Pathfinder. Suvi, can you mark the kett on the team's HUDs?"

Suvi sucked in a breath shakily, pushing herself up. "Y-yeah, I can do that, Kallo. Pathfinder team," she commed. "Updating your HUDs now."

She whispered under her breath. "May the powers-that-be be merciful."

* * *

" _Vetra?_ "

" _Power relay tower. Most of them are coming my way._ "

" _Acknowledged. We'll try to draw them off, then you hit them from behind. Walker? Sara?_ "

"Still in the research center, Cora. I don't think they've seen any of us yet."

" _They're splitting up. Four headed my way. Five your way, Vetra._ Tides _, is that a heavy?_ "

"Afraid so, lieutenant. He's going to be a problem; Sara threw a singularity at one of his brothers back on Hab Seven. Did nothing to him."

" _Most important thing is to watch out for is his cone of fire,_ " warned Vetra. " _I've fought a couple of them before. The best way to get him is to hit him from behind._ "

"The other six are spreading out, checking the other buildings," said Sara. "Should we hit the big one first before mopping up?"

" _Negative, Pathfinder. One of them may get a lucky shot in. We'll take care of the footsoldiers first, then the heavy to finish. Vetra, once you deal with the five, can you draw the big one's fire while we maneuver into position?_ "

" _Sure thing, lieutenant. But you've got to make it quick though, my tech armor can only hold off so much damage._ "

"Make that two, LT," said Jon. "I have tech armor too. We can tag-team, Vetra, that way we have the opportunity to let our shields recharge."

" _Good plan, Jon. Count me in._ "

" _Alright. Everybody knows what they need to do. Pathfinder, on your mark._ "

Jon swiped at his omnitool, activating his tech armor, which glowed a bright green over his torso, upper arms and thighs before fading. "Set. Covering you, Sara."

Sara swallowed. Here they were, about to go up against the kett again. At least this time she knew that they went down just like any Milky Way species once you pump them full of slivers. They aren't that scary. They can be beaten.

She raised a fist. "Let's do this, Jon." She hesitated, not knowing if he was sore over the fact that she was rude towards him after all he'd done for her.

Jon showed no sign of animosity, bumping his fist against hers, like they did back on Habitat Seven. He'd made a promise to Alec Ryder. Now, he had one to make to Sara.

"With you till the end, Sara."

Sara smiled despite the situation, and palmed the door control.

* * *

The kett spun in alarm as gunfire erupted in their midst.

Jon moved fast, relying on his armor's shields to soak up the hits he was receiving, indirectly shielding Sara's right side. Sara noticed the advantage, aiming down her left, keeping pace with Jon as she fired, ducking involuntarily as a plasma shot whizzed dangerously close by, deflecting off her own shields, which flared purple. _So quickly?!_

Jon's shields, on the other hand, was a monster, soaking up maybe seven shots, and yet still flaring blue. His whole body spoke of intense concentration, each action controlled carefully, his bulk - thanks to the armor he was wearing - giving Sara some degree of comfort as she threw a biotic bolt, knocking a kett over as it was hurriedly reloading its odd weapon, then firing a burst at its companion before finishing the job on the first.

"Clear on my side," she called out, letting Jon know. He dipped his head and fired a two-round burst, pivoted and fired another burst, clean, neat, professional, not even flinching when the plasma shots impacted his shields. Sara ducked under his arm, firing at a kett he missed, the alien walloping backwards and slamming painfully into a rock behind it.

Heat. Pain.

Sara hissed, nearly dropping her weapon, as a burning sensation lanced through her right calf, the strident beep of an alert in her ears, her shields depleted. She'd barely reacted to the fact that she received a shot before she had the wind knocked out of her, Jon's forearm striking her across the chest as he moved to cover her from the kett that had snuck up behind them, hammering it with a hail of shots, one handed. He continued to shoot at it after it fell, making sure it stayed down, then risked a quick glance at Sara.

"How bad?"

Already the pain was disappearing slowly, medigel creeping its way through the piping in the suit to the breach, a layer of omnigel above it, the two meeting but not mixing, a marvel of bioengineering. An angry red patch about the size of her palm marked where Sara was hit, but there was surprisingly very little blood.

"A scratch," she told him, pressing her foot into the ground to test her weight-bearing ability. "It'll keep."

Jon didn't waste time on any more talk, raising his weapon once more, his shields now flaring purple. He gestured with a hand, indicating the Initiative shipping crates nearby. Sara got it, moving with him, watching their six, as he strafed, loading a fresh thermal clip into his odd new weapon with an ease that Sara was envious of, under a second, resuming putting rounds downrange near-instantaneously.

Sara lunged for the cover offered by the crates, Jon crashing next to her, breathing hard. He tugged at the release on his weapon; the thermal clip bounced between them, glowing red-hot, rolling a short distance away into the sand.

"Shields nearly gone," he said matter-of-factly. "Need all that I can get if I'm going to draw that big mother's fire. Sara, circle around back and attack from behind, with the lieutenant, if you can reach her. Keep moving, and don't get caught out in the open."

As if to emphasize his point, there was a churning sound, and the crate they were resting their backs on shuddered violently.

" _All the footsoldiers are down! Get him!_ " screeched Vetra.

A soft whine, and a roar of pain. Jon risked a peek over the half-melted crate.

Vetra was unloading on the heavy, her legs apart, bracing herself as she let fly with that sweet assault rifle of hers, the rate of fire of that thing! She rolled to a side as the heavy took aim, the air shuddering with the discharge of its weapon, plasma melting sand into glass, a thick black gunk, pools of them in the planet's surface.

"Go, Sara!"

Jon rose, the chime in his ear telling him his shields have recharged, and tossed the grenade he had been prepping, cooking it. The grenade soaring in a textbook-perfect arc, detonating as it made contact with the heavy's thick, bony body. As the small cloud of smoke cleared, Jon had but a second to react as a hail of plasma answered his attack, dropping back into cover, the crate getting torn up, melting, as the plasma chewed through the durable outer shell.

" _Move, Jon! Covering you!_ "

Jon waited for the whine of Vetra's rifle before he tucked his head down, making a mad dash for a nearby rock, its top twice his height. Via his HUD, he could see that Sara had linked up with the LT, and the both of them were creeping up behind the heavy, carefully choosing their covers. _Good._

"Vetra! Tag!"

Jon swung out of cover and held down his trigger, not really caring about his aim this time. As an assault rifle, the Raptor was sweet, the recoil barely noticeable, so his from-the-hip firing was somewhat accurate anyway, eating through the bone of the big bastard. He let the heavy hit him with a few shots, his shields flaring crimson, before passing the shooting back to Vetra.

" _Walker, Vetra, we're making our move._ "

" _Got it,_ " quipped Vetra.

A flash of purple, a sign of biotics usage. Jon's eyes widened, his weapon dipping slightly, as he beheld the heavy being lifted into the air, the alien struggling mightily against the sudden loss of gravity. The lieutenant's face was strained as she held her arms out. _She's doing that all by herself? Woah._

Sara popped up next to the lieutenant, energy dancing around her hands as she placed them together, then drew them apart, as though she was ripping a _shoji_. A second later, Jon realized that was exactly what she was doing - Sara was ripping the bastard's bone armor apart, the pieces falling to the ground as she scooped up her Avenger and fired into exposed flesh.

The heavy convulsed, choked mid-roar, dropping its weapon, which landed with a thud in the dust. Jon moved forward, as did Vetra on his left, positioning themselves closer, to avoid catching Sara or the lieutenant in a crossfire, and unloaded everything they had into the heavy.

Cora relinquished her grip on the alien, her biotics giving out entirely, dropping to a knee, the familiar buzz of biotic overuse clouding her mind, her chest tight. Beside her, Sara fired another burst before coming to her aid. "Sam? Give Cora a boost, she needs it, pronto."

Cora's vision cleared, sounds suddenly loud again, as the A.I. accessed her suit's store of adrenaline and gave her a hit. She breathed, feeling her lungs fill with blessed air once more before pushing herself up, waving off Sara's offered hand. "I'm... alright, Pathfinder. Thanks."

A loud thud, and a triumphant yell from Vetra. Cora picked up her shotgun, walking a little unsteadily over to where Vetra was pumping her arms in the air, Walker prodding the downed alien - now resembling a large rock, lying on its side - with the barrel of his weapon. There was no reaction from the big bastard, sickly green blood oozing into a pool from multiple wounds all over its body. "I think it's really dead. Holy crap does it absorb damage like a sponge."

" _Kett life signs terminated,_ " confirmed S.A.M. " _Site One is clear of kett._ "

Sara folded her weapon away, staring at the corpse. "So much blood..." she mumbled. "Why is it so hard to kill? Nothing in the Milky Way was this tough."

"New galaxy, Pathfinder," said Cora, a smile beginning to form on her lips as their victory registered in her still-clouded consciousness. "Makes sense that some things don't die easy like we'd expect."

" _Uh, Pathfinder team, I hate to interrupt the celebrations, but..._ "

Jon looked up as the sky seemed to darken, Vetra's jubilance ebbing, the turian turning on the spot and craning her head, soon followed by Sara and the lieutenant, all looking up.

"Oh, shit. The sandstorm's here."


	20. Mi Amor

_"Pathfinder."_

 _The single word on his lips, spoken so softly, seductively, is enough for my knees to go weak. I turn, hoping that my legs won't give out under me, pasting a bright, stupid smile on my face, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible at the arrival of my date. I know it's been only a few weeks since I knew him, but...  
_

 _Damn my thoughts. He's here, that's all that matters._

 _"Hey, you."_

 _He hums, the sound low in his throat. I feel the heat rise from my neck up to my face as he runs his eyes all over my body, mentally removing each item of clothing, the pervert! I clear my throat and turn back to the bar, to meet Umi's hard glare. Umi shakes her head slightly, as if warning me about the man coming up next to me, leaning casually against the bar, flashing a wide grin at her._

* * *

 _Umi rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly as Sara Ryder half-turned her head to gaze giddily into his eyes. He made her feel special. Not because she was the Pathfinder, but as in... cherished, as a lover would. Tonight, she wanted to forget the Initiative, to just have a good time, and already his very presence had wiped her mind of all else but him._

 _She gazed at his lips, and wondered how would they feel against hers._

 _"You ready,_ mi amor _?"_

 _"I don't know what that meant, but yeah, I'm ready," replied Sara, Umi's warning already forgotten. The Tempest, forgotten. The fact that the kett were gunning for her, forgotten._

 _All she knew at that very moment was this suave man in front of her, who made her feel wanted again._

* * *

 _She waited until the two have had a few drinks and had stumbled out of Kralla's Song, the fucking alien bartender shaking her head at their antics, before she rose, abandoning the drink she'd purchased, the metal cup still full. Slid several credit chips across the bar, shrugging on her leather jacket, hands in the pockets, fingers closing around an omniblade handle.  
_

 _Kralla's Song. Idiot name if she'd ever heard one. Fucking aliens everywhere! And those angara... pah! Emotional fucks. But easy to manipulate, though. The Charlatan's girl was obvious proof, halfway around the planet while here he was, gallivanting with the highly-praised Pathfinder! If only the people back at the Nexus knew the company that the Pathfinder kept..._

 _She smirked to herself. What she would give to knock that self-centered bitch down a peg or two._ 'The Milky Way's best and brightest?' 'Hold on to that dream?' _What they all needed wasn't a dream, they needed a fucking vision! One like Jien Garson's! Shame though, the woman herself finding out too much about her employer, and got cold feet. Garson was the one person who could bring humanity to the forefront, and she had to poke too deep into matters that weren't her business. Shame._

 _She nearly apologized to Garson as she brought the blade in her hand across Garson's throat. She'd killed plenty before, humans and aliens - she savored the alien kills more, obviously - she'd felt_ righteous _, as she shot, stabbed and slashed her way through her employer's enemies. But this particular kill..._

 _As she cradled Garson, holding her hand, calming her during her last moments in this life, her bubbled protestations fading to nothing, she felt cold. Empty. As though she'd done humanity a great disservice by killing Jien Garson. She'd never felt like this before._

 _She shook her head, eyes hard as she went in the opposite direction from where the Charlatan and his girl-toy had taken. She had reliable sources telling her that the ship was almost unguarded, just two or three personnel aboard, none of them military-trained. Easy pickings._

 _And he was on board. Too injured to move. Medbay, bed two, along with that asari doctor who kept such a close eye on him she wouldn't be surprised if they were fucking._

 _She nearly hissed as she recalled his name. What he'd done was unforgivable. She'd taken on this job with her employer solely to get back at him, and now, after years of patiently biding her time and honing her skills, he was in a position where he would be at her mercy._

 _Jonathan Chang will die._


	21. Interface

Running back to the Tempest was an unspoken, unanimous decision.

"Run. RUN!"

They turned and ran, Vetra slightly in the lead. The wind had picked up, pelting their retreating backs with sand and stones. The sand underfoot was soft, hampering their efforts to make it to the Tempest in time; within seconds, they were struggling to lift their feet clear of the ankle-deep particles.

" _Tempest! Prep for takeoff, now!_ " yelled Sara, her breaths coming in gasps. She turned her head slightly to glance behind -

She whipped her head back, a hand coming up involuntarily. Beside her, Jon could hear the _crack_ even above the howling wind that threatened to drown out their comms. He reached an hand out, grasping Sara's arm firmly as she stumbled, removing her hand from her faceplate gingerly. It was still intact, but with a tiny star fracture, barely the size of a fingernail, above her left eye.

"I'm fine, go!"

" _Core spun up, ready for takeoff, Pathfinder. Ramp's down. Waiting on you, Ryder,_ " came Kallo's smooth voice.

* * *

"That's... a monster."

Sara pressed her palms to the viewport, wide-eyed at the huge patch of brown below them. It covered everything in its path, even blotting out the lakes they could see, blue-green disappearing under the brown.

"Biggest sandstorm on record, ever since Promise began keeping track of weather patterns," clarified Suvi. She looked up, a playful smile on her lips. "Eos must have known you were coming, Ryder!"

Sara chuckled ruefully, leaning on the console. A drop of sweat fell onto the smooth plastiglass surface; Sara straightened and brushed her damp hair out of her face. "That's certainly an odd way to roll out the red carpet, trying to kill us," she replied, heart still thumping from the run. "Good job getting us up here so quickly, Kallo."

The pilot smiled and cocked his head. "Wouldn't want it any other way, Ryder. I'm not fond of anything that could harm..." He patted the top of his console.

"So... now what?"

"We wait for it to pass. I'm getting insane readings across the board from the weather vanes in Sites One and Two."

"Site Two?"

"'Resilience _._ ' It was supposed to continue where Promise left off, with a heavier military presence. Didn't stop the kett from wiping them out anyway. Lasted less than a month," reported Suvi. "Only one survivor, Chief Engineer Grace Lito. She watched both outposts die."

"Damn."

"Sam estimates about ten hours for the storm to clear fully. In the meanwhile, I have several things to report, Pathfinder, if you'd like to clean up a little first."

"That's... a good idea, Suvi," Sara looked down at her underarmor. It was still caked with dirt and sand in several places. As she moved, several clods fell onto the Pathfinder's platform, scattering particles of sand all over the smooth surface.

She could almost feel Kallo wincing at that. "Sorry, Kallo."

And that's not even mentioning how sticky she felt, from all that sweating.

* * *

"Sweet rig! Is that... the Deep Space Explorer set from Kassa?"

Jon nodded at Gil Brodie, who was resetting the decon arch, the foul smell of decontaminants still in the air, that smell of chemicals he associated with medical centers. The ship's engineer tapped at his omnitool, locking the arch in place, before sauntering over to Jon, looking down at the various armor pieces on the workbench.

"Never seen one of these up close before. Custom-made?"

"Modified, actually. I learned a few tricks from the Corps, back when I was A.E.C. Rewired the lighting systems, for one, to improve shield regen."

"Those redundant ones? Finally, someone else who values practicality over the cosmetic!" Brodie slapped Jon lightly on the back. "Have you tried rerouting the secondary kinetic pathways on your thighpads to your cells? The primaries are actually carrying most of the charge, if you check the schematics. Any bleedoff will recharge your backups, that way, instead of adding a negligible amount to overall performance."

"That's..." Jon frowned, pulling the schematics of his armor up on his omnitool, raising an eyebrow as he realized Brodie was right. "You work with armors too?"

"I dabble a little. Lots of free time, sitting around, waiting for a Pathfinder to show up. I was going nuts on the Nexus; you can't know how jazzed I was when you guys showed up."

"Thanks for tip, Mr. Brodie."

The ship's engineer waved off the formality. "Eh, just call me Gil. We're crewmates now - Jonathan, right? Jon alright by you?"

"Sure."

"Be seeing you, Jon; I need to recheck the core. That salarian messed up my calibrations." Gil shrugged in a _what-can-you-do_ way before walking away. "Gotta keep things running according to script, keep things shipshape, know what I mean?"

Jon gave Gil a little wave, then bent over his chestpiece once more, running the particle wand over it. The results popped up on his omnitool - clean.

He stored his armor away and stretched, feeling the soreness in his muscles, and a tiredness that he'd never felt previously. No one mentioned how long the storm was going to take to pass, so he decided to at least clean up, grab some food, maybe a nap. He yawned as he scratched at an itch on his face, heading for the crew showers.

* * *

"Stay still, Cora."

Cora was so weak, she didn't even have the energy to nod, simply letting her body sink into the medbay's bed as Lexi T'Perro activated the bed's overhead scanner. It ran up and down the lieutenant's body several times, beams of light playing over the lieutenant - and through her - before the results showed up on Lexi's terminal. She frowned. "Lieutenant. When did you last have something to eat?"

Cora smiled guiltily. "Right after we docked with the Nexus, I suppose...?"

"And before this mission?"

Cora sighed. "No. Too busy trying to get the Tempest ready for the Pathfinder."

"That explains why you're suffering from biotic strain right now, then." Lexi rose, sifting through her stock of vials. She slipped an amber-tinged one into the bedframe - a cuff locked itself around Cora's arm. She winced as the needle extended into her skin from the cuff.

"A quick shot of nutrients. I'll put you on actual food once your condition stabilizes. That was dangerous, Cora, forgetting to top up your energy stores, knowing you were going to use biotics!"

"Wasn't thinking straight, Lexi."

"Look, Cora, we've been through this. It's not that Alec didn't want to pass the title to you, it's just that..." Lexi paused as she noticed that the lieutenant's eyes were closed. A quick check told her that Harper had fallen asleep.

Lexi shook her head and reached for the comm.

* * *

"So... Pathfinder team?"

Jon twirled his fork. "Not exactly my choice," he said, after swallowing a mouthful of rations, licking sauce off his lip. "Don't even have an implant."

"An im- oh. That A.I. implant, right? The one the Pathfinder and the lieutenant have, on the back of their necks?" Vetra gestured to the back of her own neck.

Jon twisted around in his seat so Vetra could see the smooth, unblemished skin. "Yep. I'm me, one hundred percent. No offense, Sam."

" _None taken, Engineer Walker. I remain curious, though._ "

"Noted."

Vetra appeared slightly nervous, glancing up at the ceiling, her eyes darting all over the room. Jon got the hint, pointing wordlessly at a node by a ceiling strip light, roughly the size of an implosion charge. Vetra approached and studied it, her height allowing her to look at it from a closer perspective.

"Hey, uh. Sam, is it?"

" _Hello, Wrangler Nyx. I would like to wish you a belated welcome to the team._ "

Vetra blinked at the title S.A.M. had given her, but nodded, satisfied. "Thanks. Just wondering, what role does an A.I. play in helping the Pathfinder? And uh, aren't you supposed to be illegal?"

" _I was designed by Alec Ryder as a complement to Pathfinder teams. Via implant, I am able to share the experiences of each team member, seeing and feeling as they do. In turn, I provide each member with advanced situational awareness, problem solving, and tactical enhancements. The Initiative deemed my assistance to be valuable enough to be an exception to the rule._ "

"So... you're in Ryder's head. Sort of?"

" _I receive a direct feed of the Pathfinder's sensory input. In essence, you are correct, Wrangler Nyx._ "

"Neat. And you're all over the Tempest?"

" _Physically, I'm located in my Node on the Hyperion. I'm 'here' via QEC. My attention can be split to accommodate many requests at the same time, but my priority is still the Pathfinder._ "

"Wow. That's..."

"Amazing, I know. Dad always was a genius," said Sara, coming through the door. She'd showered and changed, looking good in casual clothing - Initiative pants and boots, a dark green woolen hoodie, open at the front, over a short-sleeved Initiative top. Her hair was still slightly damp from the shower, tied back into her customary ponytail. She took three quick steps, dodging nimbly past Vetra, and shoved her head into the fridge. "Anything good on the menu? Aw, man. It's empty!"

Jon shrugged. "No one had time to cook anything yet. I'm going with rations for now."

"You, Vetra?"

The turian held up a packet. "Dextro. I'm all set. I'll be in the tech lab if anyone wants me. Got some calls to make about that sweet salvage in Site One. Well, if it's still standing once the storm passes."

Sara plopped herself down in the seat opposite Jon, tearing open a ration pack of her own as the door slid shut behind Vetra. "Ugh. Teriyaki. Why's it always teriyaki?"

"It's not bad, really. Heat it up a little; that'll get the flavor out."

Sara popped the pack into the oven. Jon took another mouthful of food, glancing up as Sara sat back down, her eyes on him.

"Uh... yes, Pathfinder?"

She swatted him on the arm. "Cut it, Jon. We're off-mission. It's 'Sara,' alright?"

"Sara. Okay. Anything's the problem?"

"No, no problem. I just realized, I've done the rounds, getting to know everyone on the crew. And the one person I hadn't had the opportunity to talk to yet was you. Even if we did talk... you know, about Dad." Sara's eyes dropped to the table for a moment. "He never spoke about you, yet he trusted you enough to bring you into the team after Scott's accident."

"Oh. Erm."

Quiet for a moment as Jon racked his brains, Sara's blue eyes on him, hands laced under her chin. "Weeeeeeell?"

"Erm."

It was like a dam waiting to burst. Jon didn't know what to say. What do you say when you have someone whose life you'd saved sitting across from you? And was your commanding officer?

And whom you found attractive? His mind went blank. His lips moved, but nothing came out.

Sara chuckled; the sound drew him out of his jammed mind. She'd pressed the sleeve of her hoodie against her mouth, mirth in her eyes, leaning back in her seat. "You know, you look funny when you think so hard like that. Relax, Jon. I'm not going to bite you. Here, I'll lead, you follow, okay?"

Sara tapped the table with a finger. "I'm Sara Ryder. Daughter to Alec Ryder, first N7 the Systems Alliance had ever seen, and Ellen Harlow, an expert in biotic implants. Older sister to my brother, Scott, by a minute." She smiled at that. "I never let him forget it."

"I was born and raised on the Citadel. Enlisted at eighteen, joined a peacekeeping force guarding Prothean researchers, right out of boot camp. I tagged along with Mateus Silva for a while. Then," Sara's visage darkened. "After two years of service, I got discharged. Right then, Dad pulled me and Scott into the Initiative. And here I am."

Sara brightened, smiling. "See? It's not so hard. Your turn."

How to explain to Sara about his past?

Jon began hesitantly, encouraged by Sara's interested gaze. "Well... I'm Jonathan Chang... Walker. Became an Alliance citizen at age eighteen, enlisted right after registration. I was assigned to the A.E.C. out of boot camp. Spent a few years on and off as security for Alliance Geological Service teams, and as part of a resettlement team in the Skyllian Verge, building homes for displaced colonists. Then... I got recruited by Alec Ryder. And here I am," he finished, using Sara's words.

"Ah. You must have seen quite a bit of fighting then. The Verge."

"Plenty. Lot of people there just wanted a peaceful life, after the Blitz. Most days I alternate between helping out with building homes and fending off slavers and pirates. Too many homes to build, too many people to build them for."

"Helping people start over. Like right now." Sara got up to retrieve her food, the packet steaming slightly. "Mm. Hey, you're right. Does taste like it's right out of Ryuusei's!"

Jon smiled. "Trick is to eat it warm. Good food does wonders for the spirit."

"I feel better already," winked Sara. "Suvi said the storm's going to take a while. Couple of hours. Heard you're the man to go to for armor upgrades?"

"It's just a little modding," Jon chuckled quietly. "You learn a lot about your gear in the Corps."

"Mind taking a look at my armor for me? I keep getting my faceplate damaged. Getting annoyed by that, actually."

"Sure thing. Just..." A thoughtful look crossed Jon's face.

"What?"

The conversation, back to something he was comfortable with, Jon relaxed in his seat. "Honestly, that standard Initiative armor you're wearing? Kinda weak. I mean, for a Pathfinder, no offense intended. I'll see if I can get you something a little more... sturdy."

"Like yours? Kassa only manufactured like, what? Fifty of those?"

Jon scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Yeah. Managed to swipe a set. With your dad's permission, of course."

"That'll be great, Jon. Thank you," said Sara, smiling gently at him, her blue eyes sparkling. And for him, that was the highlight of their conversation in the galley. A good start.

* * *

Six solid hours of sleep later, Sara headed to the bridge, breakfast pack in hand. She could hear Suvi's voice even before the bridge's door was open.

"... it." The doctor held her hands up, gesturing to illustrate her point, Kallo leaning back in his couch, fingers pressed together. "The Milky Way? It was just a corner of a vast universe! A corner, of a tiny corner. And us - me, you, the Pathfinder team, everyone on the Nexus? The whole Initiative? We're the ones who got to step out of that corner. It's... incredible!" Suvi exhaled, long and slow, falling back into her seat. "Ah, shite, Kallo. Getting so worked up over this great opportunity. Oh! Pathfinder! Didn't hear you coming in."

Sara smiled, standing behind Suvi's couch. "Don't worry about it, Suvi. It's good to see some optimism for a change. Morning, Kallo."

"Morning, Ryder. Though it's technically still night, shipboard time. And it's midday on Eos."

"I've waited months to get out there and see Heleus. Studied all the planetary scans. Even had some hands-on experience with Heleus soil samples..." continued Suvi, bouncing in her seat, something occurring to her. "Ooh, Pathfinder? If you want, I'll send you my analysis on the native bacteria and microfauna! Sixty pages!"

Sara's smile froze on her face, a forkful of scrambled egg halfway up to her mouth; she lowered it slowly back into the ration pack in her hand. "Woah. That's a... lot of pages, Suvi. About... dirt."

Suvi was oblivious to the Pathfinder's inflection, already flipping through her notes. "Oh, you don't have to be kind, Ryder! I know, it's barely more than a summary!"

Sara grimaced as soon as Suvi's back was turned. Sixty pages. But the doc was so excited, and Sara didn't want to burst her bubble...

"Hope you're not off stormchasing today, Ryder?" inquired Kallo levelly.

Sara grinned apologetically at the pilot. "Not entirely sure about that yet, Kallo, sorry. I'll try not to, though. Suvi, I'm ready for those items you mentioned."

"Ah, of course. That planetwide scan gave us so much information. I've managed to look through them before turning in for the night. Here, let's start with this." Suvi expanded a holo on her console. "I've gotten a fix on the atmo processor's exact location. Except... there's not one of the structures, but three of them, close together."

"Three? Seems a little extreme."

"Agreed. I thought at first it was because Eos was a large planet, but when I compared its size to Habitat Seven's, Eos was about two times smaller than Seven. I'll look into it. Anyway, the processors aren't too far from Site One, a mere ten kilometers west. The only problem is..." Suvi turned in her couch.

Sara knew what the doctor was about to say next; she'd been pondering that very question herself. "How to get there."

"Exactly. So I used the scan to look for any sort of vehicle that has rad-resistant plating. Plenty of hot pockets on the way to the processors, I'm afraid - Scourge tendrils in the area seem to be the source. I found three hits, all ND-1 Nomads. "

Sara's pulse quickened. "And where might these Nomads be?"

"Ah." Suvi brought up another holo, superimposed on the first. Three red dots marked the location of the Nomads she mentioned. "The first is at Site Two. But as I mentioned last night, it's a no-go. Entirely irradiated, swarming with kett. The second is..." Suvi frowned, checking her notes. "Hm. In a crevice. On the other side of Eos."

Sara made a face at that. "How...?"

" _See?_ " commed Gil Brodie. " _Sure, let's give them Nomads. Don't matter if they don't know how to drive 'em! Bloody idiots._ "

"Thanks for the glowing reference, Gil. And the third?"

"Strange as it may sound, Pathfinder," Suvi pointed at the third red dot. "It's right at the base of one of the atmo processors."

"Meaning..." Sara tapped her chin with a finger. "Someone else knows about the processors?"

"Possibly. The Nexus science team confirmed that they'd sent no one out to investigate those alien structures since Director Tann closed off Eos. Too dangerous. And that Nomad was originally shipped out here with Site One. Sam did some quick checks with Site One's mainframe, and... well. The Nomad's been making a lot of trips back and forth from the processor to Site One, even after Promise's failure. Regularly, too, once every two, three days. And if the schedule's consistent, it's going to be at Site One today, in an hour's time."

"Someone's using it. A lost member of the Promise team? Salvagers?"

"I'd put my creds on salvagers, Pathfinder," noted Vetra, coming up behind them. "Found a datapad with a log written by the departed Clancy Arquist. He mentioned someone called 'Crazy Blue.'"

"That's encouraging," said Sara, deadpan. "Asking someone with 'Crazy' in their name for a ride to the processors. Sure, what could go wrong?"

"But it's our best shot, Pathfinder," concluded Suvi.

"It's too risky for an airdrop, Ryder, I've done the calculations, ran simulations based off the scan. Too high, and too close to the processor. Your jump-pack can't handle that much air," added Kallo.

"So... Sara turned her gaze to the planet, directly ahead of them. "Crazy it is, then. Pathfinder team, suit up. We're heading back down."

* * *

"Seems quiet," noted Jon.

"Where are the bodies?" asked Vetra.

She was right; the kett they'd been fighting have all disappeared. Jon moved over to the spot where they'd taken down that heavy, looking down at the dirt. "It's... odd." He squatted, running his scanner over the soil. "Traces of kett biological material. Did they just... melt or something?"

" _Your scan yields interesting information, Engineer Walker - high numbers of unstable kett cells detected. Your theory may indeed be correct. Forwarding data to Dr. T'Perro for analysis._ "

Vetra's Cyclone came up, barrel spinning, at the muted roar that came from the other side of the outpost. "Someone's coming."

Jon boosted himself up a tall rock, lying flat on his front. He flicked the Raptor to sniper mode - the previous night, he managed to take the weapon apart and swapped out the shavers to increase sliver size, for added damage. Downside was he had fewer shots now, in either configuration, but that was okay by him. He was always one for making shots count, not spray-and-pray. He'd done the same for Sara's Avenger, and added a short-range assault scope, at her request. She was particularly intrigued by his ability to completely disassemble the Avenger in moments, something that filled him with a quiet pride.

A cloud of dust - Jon synced his feed to Sara and Vetra's HUDs. "Vehicle approaching," he murmured, adjusting his view through the scope, thumb depressing the safety. The sniper-configuration shaver within the Raptor charged up, a low hum.

The ND-1 Nomad was a thing of beauty. Sleek, streamlined, it looked more like a sports vehicle than an exploration one, and the Initiative's go-to one, at that. Six wheels, each the height of a human, each with its own suspension system, giving the Nomad its ATV classification. Switchable between four- and six-wheel drives. Eezo core, powered by twin hydrogen-oxygen fuel cells. It bounced very slightly as its right side wheels rolled over a large rock, but the chassis stayed level. The Nomad sported the standard Initiative blue-and-white, but that was under a thick coat of brown dirt.

The Nomad coasted to a gentle stop before the central control building, engine idling for a moment before going silent. The doors slid out and up. Jon's finger tightened on the trigger.

An asari jumped out of the Nomad, landing in the dirt, twin puffs of dust. She was clad in a form-fitting purple jacket, brown pants tucked into shin-high boots, steel toecaps. An assortment of belts and pouches adorned her hips, thighs and around her exposed midriff, each producing a clinking sound as she moved. Jon noted a sidearm in its holster at her right hip, buttoned down.

She was young, judging from the way her eyes lighted up at the sight of Sara and Vetra, bouncing a little as she came towards them. One odd thing about her was the stripe of black across her eyes, untidy, careless.

"Hey! Woah, woah, mind pointing that elsewhere? I'd rather not have holes in me, you know?"

"Got her covered," whispered Jon.

Vetra's frown was still in place as she folded her Cyclone away. "Much better. See? Let's keep things easy, okay?" The asari studied them for a moment, her hands on her hips, before springing forwards, hand outstretched; Jon almost pulled the trigger. "Nice to meet ya! You're the Pathfinder, aren't you?"

"How'd you -"

"Meh, saw the ship swoop in. Thought you guys were made up, so the rest of us wouldn't lose hope. But you guys are for real, aren't you?" The asari punched Sara lightly in the shoulder. "Yep. I'm certainly _not_ hallucinating. You're real, alright. Actually solidly built."

Sara shook the asari's hand. "I'm Sara Ryder, Pathfinder. This is Vetra Nyx, part of my crew. We're here to investigate an alien signal."

"Then you're in luck! Me, I'm just the person you're looking for. My name's PeeBee. As in petabyte. Or peanut butter. Whichever you prefer. Short, sweet, just the way I like things."

"We've a lead that the alien signal may help make this world more... livable. Can you help us get there? We need wheels," asked Sara, cautiously.

"Hm. The weather here's all kinds of strange," PeeBee looked up at the dome of the twinkling blue environ shield above them. "Like I said, I might just be the solution to your problems. But first! Got anything to eat? I'm starving."

* * *

"Supposed to meet my man Clancy; he's my Nexus contact. He's not picking up, very unlike him. Well, unless he's sauced. Which is entirely likely. So I guess it's not unlike him anyways."

PeeBee wolfed down the contents of the ration pack Gil had brought them, not even pausing for a breather. She finished an entire canister of water in a single gulp. "Ooh, that hit the spot. Tastes terrible, but better than nothing, am I right? Well, let's go, then. Your mystery signal awaits."

Jon vaulted over the rock, landing gently with a single boost from his jump-pack. PeeBee moved fast; the revolver was trained on Jon before she'd even gotten up. "Crap. Raiders."

"Woah, relax, PeeBee!" Sara moved to block the gun, her hands up. "That's Jonathan, another of my crew."

"Waaaaaait. You had a sniper on me the whole time?" PeeBee frowned, but retracted her revolver, an odd, cobbled-together thing that Sara'd never seen before. The asari smiled slowly, waving a finger at Sara. "Smart, Pathfinder. Never know whom you can trust these days, not since the uprising. You've just earned a point in my book. Well, come on, let's go! You too, sniper-boy."

Jon glanced at Vetra, who shrugged.

* * *

The interior of the Nomad was small, but comfortable, room for four. PeeBee was driving, her hands on the controls, making course adjustments with her gloved fingers.

"Hey, uh, thanks, PeeBee."

"Don't mention it, Pathfinder! If it makes this place a little easier to explore and find more of that Remtech I'm researching, I'm all for it! And of course, so that we can set roots down here for the Initiative yadda yadda, all that jazz."

Jon peered out the side window at the passing scenery, most of which was tinged a slight shade of green. Like before, he was reminded of how much Eos resembled Mars, or the Grand Canyon. Sandy plains, rocky cliffs, the occasional alien shrub. There was a strange beauty to the whole place, knowing that this was a planet that hasn't been fully explored, in a different galaxy from the one he was born in.

He could feel, maybe even understand, the way that old-Earth astronomer felt when he got stranded on Mars in the 2030s - Jon'd watched a documentary on the guy. He'd described what it was like, in his rover on the way to Schiaparelli Crater, the way he'd looked out over the sandy dunes, the reddish surface of Mars, and knowing that he was the only person on the entire planet, the first to actually have eyes on places his fellow man had not been to before, and would likely never be. Jon felt the same way at that moment, a kind of tugging at his heart, a sort of pit in his chest that couldn't be filled, as he gazed upon Eos' barren landscape, watching the colors change.

The Nomad's console chimed, sending an alert to all their omnitools, bringing him out of his reverie - Level Two radiation warning. Fatal after fifteen minutes' exposure, even in full gear. Jon did a quick check on the Nomad's systems - all were in the green.

"Remtech?" asked Sara.

"The source of your alien signal. There're monoliths here, black stone or something. I've been studying them for months, trying to figure out how they work. And I made a breakthrough last night. I think."

"We came in on the Hyperion. Just docked with the Nexus about... fortyish hours back? There was a monolith, too, on Habitat Seven," said Sara.

"Really? They do anything, besides being a pain to figure out?"

"My dad managed to access a control panel of some sort. It altered Hab Seven's weather," said Sara.

"Wait, WHAT?!" The Nomad screeched to a halt; Sara let out an involuntary _oof!_ as the restraining arms pulled her tight against her seat. PeeBee stared at her, her jaw hanging open, oblivious to Jon and Vetra picking themselves off the floor behind her. "He managed to - how - atmospheric manipulation - ah, PeeBee, you forgetful little thing!" The asari smacked herself on the forehead. "It's that A.I. of yours, right? Heard you Pathfinders have them."

" _Hello, Pelessaria B'Sayle. I'm Sam, Simulated Adaptive Matrix,_ " said the A.I. through the Nomad's console, an ice-blue holo popping up.

PeeBee frowned and pouted. "It would have been a nice hello if you didn't go and tell everyone my full name. But hi, anyway. And stop poking around in the Nexus databases."

"Wait, PeeBee is short for -"

"Uh uh uh!" The asari flicked Sara playfully on the faceplate. "PeeBee, thank you very much."

"Ow. Fine, PeeBee it is," Sara couldn't help but smile at the asari's antics. She was certainly very bubbly, very cheerful. And very unpredictable.

" _Pelessaria_ , huh?" Vetra grinned, still wincing a little from the sudden stop. PeeBee twisted around in her seat to glare at her, which didn't work out so well as the stripe across her eyes took the seriousness out of the glare. "Watch it, turian."

* * *

Ten minutes later, PeeBee brought the Nomad to a gentle stop. "Here we are. Welcome to my little slice of Eos. Nothing grand, but I wake up and poof! Standing right beside one of these things. Keeps me busy, and my mind off the fact that sand's everywhere."

They'd all seen the monolith from afar, towering over the landscape, as it did back on Hab Seven. Jon made out several smooth-rock structures on the approach, pointing them out to Sara. They disembarked the Nomad, looking around.

"Sam, are you getting this?" asked Sara, wonder in her voice.

 _ **Anything you see, I'm seeing, Sara.**_

Jon touched a smooth-rock structure next to them; it came up to his chest, poking through the dirt. Nothing happened, except for a clearing of dust where Jon ran his fingers. "It seems like it's... unpowered. No blue lines." Jon turned in place, surveying the structures around them, towering over them, the monolith itself, them in its shadow.

PeeBee's shack was a hastily-constructed one, tiny, enough to admit a cot and not much else. She opened the door with her omnitool and rummaged around inside as Sara looked around. The entire site was protected by shield masts, and things don't seem to be as sandblasted as Site One. She pointed this out to PeeBee; the asari's muffled reply was, "Dunno what's it about this monolith, but the storms don't seem to hit it. There are two more of them, out by the canyon."

"Pathfinder, you'll want to see this."

Sara jogged over to Vetra. The turian was standing at the edge of a cliff, the canyon PeeBee mentioned. Sure enough, through the heat distortion in the air, Sara could barely make out the wavy outlines of two more monoliths, to either side of them, on the far side of the canyon.

"The other two atmo processors," breathed Sara.

"They seem to be forming a triangle..." wondered Jon. He drew an imaginary triangle between all three from his point of view.

"Found it!"

Sara looked around as PeeBee waved a datapad in her hand. "Your breakthrough?"

"Yeah! Well, part of it, anyway. I found some weird... glyphs, I think? Glyphs, on top of those smaller monoliths." PeeBee indicated the smaller structures surrounding the big one, with flat tops, easily reachable by jump-pack. She swiped at the datapad and handed it over to Sara. "Maybe your S.A.M. can make sense of it. Took me a while to get up there and set up a scanner. Each of them seem to have different ones, here. There are four, in total. Think they may be passkeys, or codewords. I dunno."

Sara blinked as she studied the glyphs. And her heart began to beat just a little faster. These were possibly the writings of an ancient alien civilization! Like the Protheans! Adding to that the fact that these smooth-rock structures were definitely not kett... She swiped, looking at all four glyphs, Jon and Vetra crowding around her to see for themselves.

"Hm. Sure do love their straight lines, even their glyphs are all razor-edge," commented Jon. "Looks a little like writing, though. Their alphabet, maybe?"

"Maybe," breathed Sara. "Sam?"

" _Updating database with newly-acquired symbols._ "

"And here's the big thing I found, Ryder!" PeeBee yelled. She was standing atop the smooth-rock platform, from which all the other smooth-rock structures seem to be spreading out from. Several jump-pack boosts was enough for them to reach PeeBee, who was waving them over to a triangular thing - _a control panel!_ Sara realized, the same thing, a console, that Dad used to gain access to that processor back on Seven!

The asari activated both her omnitools, looking over at them. "These are like the keys on a keyboard. They won't budge, though, if you just press on them -" PeeBee pressed a finger to a key. It didn't move, as she said.

"But, if you apply a _little_ electrical charge to them..."

She held her hands above the console, and discharged her omnitools. The keys moved of their own accord, rippling, a single wave from the center to the edges, and then was still once more.

"Wait, you're not doing anything to the... thing. Are you?" asked Sara in alarm, looking up. The atmo processor stayed silent and black.

PeeBee shrugged. "If I was, it's nothing. Nothing's happened since I pinged it last night. Three times, actually, to be sure. No ground-shattering earthquakes, no Remnant bots attacking me, the star continued to set, time flowed without interruption..."

"Remnant?"

The asari grinned, lifting a hand to indicate the atmo processor. "These monoliths? The bots? I have a strong feeling they're the remnants of something much bigger. An alien race that we've never seen before. Like the Protheans, back in the Milky Way. We don't even know what they _look_ like, just the bits and pieces they left scattered around for us to find. But! Coming back to names, that's too long. _Remnants of something much bigger blah blah_. So, the Remnant. Like how my name's," she glanced at Vetra. "Better as PeeBee."

Sara moved in front of the console, PeeBee standing aside to let her take over. " _Ready to interface, Pathfinder._ "

Jon touched Sara on the arm. "You sure about this? Manipulating something that can alter weather... it's powerful. And it can be dangerous."

"We've come this far. The Nexus is relying on us. And I have S.A.M. to help. Don't worry, Jon." She flashed him a quick smile.

"It's just... when your dad interfaced with that processor on Hab Seven, it nearly blew all of us clean off the platform. What if it happens here, too?" Jon glanced behind them - a sheer drop into the canyon awaited.

" _Do not be distressed, Engineer Walker. Alec Ryder interfaced_ directly _with the atmospheric processor; that proved extremely hazardous. What I will attempt to do now is instead, look for a control center. A query, in technological parlance._ "

Jon inhaled deeply, squaring his shoulders. "Okay. Whatever happens, Sara, I'm glad I'm here for it. Let's do it. For the Nexus."

Vetra nodded. "All yours, Pathfinder."

PeeBee was bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Can't wait to see what happens!"

Sara reached a hand out, the sync pads on her thumb, index and middle fingers glowing orange, a data stream emerging from them to touch the console. Immediately, the keys began moving, this time continuously shifting, the ripples changing patterns. She held her breath.

" _Accessing... I apologize for any discomfort, Pathfinder. The system is unstable. Doubling power input..._ "

The ground beneath them shivered. Sara closed her eyes, feeling a tingling sensation run up her arm, through her body. Flashes of light behind her closed eyes. She grunted and winced a little as a tiny stab of pain made itself known somewhere in her brain. She could feel the flow of... something, through her.

From somewhere far away, she heard S.A.M. say, " _Interface successful._ "

* * *

 _Unpowered for centuries, the Remnant system took some time to boot up, power flowing through its conduits from the console the human Pathfinder had activated. Accepting the code the artificial intelligence in the Pathfinder's head supplied it with, the console granted the alien outsider with partial access to the system, a pulse running from the console all the way deep underground, to its central node, where the console there hummed to life as well, light strips glowing._

 _But it was insufficient for the entire network to be laid bare before the Pathfinder._

* * *

"Well, would you look at that."

The four of them cast their collective gazes up as neon-blue light erupted from the base of the processor, strips racing each other to reach the top of the monolith. At the top, two beams of light shot forth horizontally, connecting the three monoliths together. The beams pulse and fizzled, the blue-white light almost blinding. A low rumbling, then the quiet once more, the sound of wind blowing through the canyon.

" _System stabilized, Pathfinder. Connection established._ "

"Huh... This one's pinging the others," noted PeeBee, watching the spectacle, a finger on her chin. She turned to look at Sara. "If you wake the others up too, they must lead to whatever master switch might fix the radiation!"

" _Miss B'Sayle is correct, Pathfinder. I have detected a central node from which the three atmospheric processors branch out from. However, it is currently underpowered. Activating the other two will provide enough power to access it._ "

"PeeBee, please, Sam," muttered the asari testily.

"Interface with the monoliths, follow the connection to the source. Easy enough," nodded Sara, withdrawing her hand from the console, breaking the connection. If interfacing with these things meant that tiny bit of pain, she could endure it, no problem. The keys rippled once, then went still. "So..."

"I'm coming with."

Sara blinked. "Just like that? You barely know us!"

"You have a way to interact with Remtech directly. So that makes you the centerpiece of my research into the Remnant. And you need an expert in Remtech, if you intend to pathfind the way through this cluster." PeeBee smiled smugly. "Win-win, all around. So long as we don't piss off too many Observers, we'll be fine."

A low whine from behind them. Jon swiveled and dropped to a knee, his Talon coming up, the discharge loud in the quiet. Sara whirled around, her Avenger folding out into her arms - too late. There was a smoking pile of Remnant in front of her, Jon's pistol still aimed at it. Vetra was cursing in her tongue, still jumpy over the sudden gunshot.

"Aaaaand that's one of them. Get ready for a fight - there's always more."

Sure enough, more of the smooth-rock bots emerged from their hiding places, red lenses fixed on them. Some were just like the ones back at the Hab Seven dig site - stumbling along on two spindly legs - the others hovered like angry colony defense drones. All of them were making that odd, electronic noise, the spindly-legs ones scuttling to one side. PeeBee drew her own weapon and crooked her finger. Sara's eyes widened as one of the Observers came careening through the air, coming to a stop right in front of the asari, surrounded by a purple haze.

 _With such a simple gesture?!_

"Hey, it's me!" She smiled brightly at the lens, the bot vibrating angrily in her biotic grip, before it disintegrated into shards from the single shot PeeBee put into it, pointblank.

The bots were barely a challenge. In seconds the fight was over, heaps of smoking Remnant all over the platform. Jon lowered his Raptor. "That's it?"

"Guardian squads. Wherever there's a Remnant site, bet your last credit you'll be up against at least one. Two if you're unlucky. Good odds," winked PeeBee. "Well, come on then! We need to get to those other monoliths! I wanna see where this takes us!"

Sara looked at Jon and Vetra. Jon cocked his head and folded his weapon away, but said nothing. Vetra shrugged. "Good to have her onboard, I suppose. Odd as she is."

* * *

The second monolith was easy, only Remnant bots springing up to challenge them. PeeBee pointed. "That one's an Observer!" she yelled. "Because it... observes? Floats around like a newsdrone? Looking at everything and everyone?"

"Kill that one, quick! It produces smaller bots! An Assembler, I call it!"

"You sure do have your names for these things," quipped Sara, nudging a fallen Assembler with her boot, minutes later. PeeBee twirled her revolver and holstered it. "Gotta call them something. Most obvious ones are the best. Simple, elegant."

"Mind if I add them to the S.A.M. database?"

The asari shrugged, bending over an Observer, tapping at its darkened lens. "Sure, go right ahead."

The third monolith was trickier. PeeBee brought the Nomad to a stop some distance away from the atmo processor, earning a question from Sara. She leaned forward in her seat, squinting and pointing. "Huh. That wasn't there before."

A kett base.

They disembarked the Nomad. Almost immediately, a warning chimed in Jon's helmet - Level One radiation. Not deadly immediately, but it could drain his life support systems if left unchecked for too long. He dismissed the alert, cheeking his Raptor as they moved from boulder to boulder, the atmo processor looming above them. Jon felt a little intimidated by its size and color - it looked like a wall of black death was about to fall on them.

"Jon? You're the combat vet. Any ideas how we should proceed?" asked Sara, hunkered behind a rock. Jon wondered why Sara would ask for his opinion - then he remembered that Lieutenant Harper wasn't with them. Sara was looking to him now for guidance. He felt a surge of pride - he will not let her down.

Jon held a hand up in a fist, scanning the area ahead with his scope. There were two pathways, both leading to a central platform. He relayed the information to the others. "Vetra, PeeBee, take left. Sara, with me, to the right. Keep your intervals wide, and watch for the cloaking ones."

"Got it, Jon."

"Hey, sniper-boy, keep the Pathfinder in one piece! I still need her for my research!"

They moved.

Their path took them out over the canyon, offering a panoramic view. Jon wasn't interested in the scenery, however; the walkway was littered with kett crates and some odd energy-arch that S.A.M. told him, after scanning, was a shield generator. From his vantage point, Jon could see Vetra trying to keep up with PeeBee, who was practically skipping ahead of her.

"This place feels... empty," said Sara, coming up beside him, both of them keeping low. "No alarms, no kett so far... I thought we'd see at least one of them by now."

Jon agreed with the Pathfinder; there was something odd about them being almost at the main part of the base, and yet not a single shot had been fired. "Feels like a trap. They might be waiting for us inside there," he pointed at the main building, a two-story affair, with an open front.

Both teams reached the rendezvous point without incident. Jon flicked the Raptor's setting to assault, holding it at a slightly tilted angle; he'd added a short-distance sight to the weapon, for close-quarters combat.

Vetra's head perked up. "Hear that?" Jon motioned for all of them to be still, listening intently.

A thump. Not that of a body hitting the floor, too heavy, too measured, instinct told Jon.

Another thump. Those were footsteps. What was big enough, heavy enough, to produce that kind of -

Another thump, and a choked gargle. A roar that sounded awfully familiar, then a whole series of thumps, the floor vibrating beneath them, each thump coming faster and faster, ending in a much louder thud that sounded like something - or someone - being slammed against a wall. Hard.

"Sounds like a krogan," whispered PeeBee. "A very angry, very pissed off krogan. Hey, turian, why are you smiling?"

Vetra folded her weapon away, striding forward. "If it is who I think it is, then we're good. Come on, I'll take point from here."

* * *

Despite Vetra's confidence, Jon kept his Raptor up, sweeping left, right, up, as they entered the building, the star's light blocked out by the overhanging roof. An open space, exposed, two floors of ambush points. Jon flicked his eyes, scanning constantly -

And spun as he heard another roar, something hurtling towards them in a shower of glass and the sound of glass breaking. He jumped back as the thing thudded on the floor, sliding past them, trailing blood, and stopping, shuddering, death throes. It was one of those big dog-like creatures, the ones that could cloak.

Jon turned slowly, dreading what he was about to see. And he was right.

The krogan towered over them on a slightly elevated platform, glaring at them through a shattered window. The platform shook beneath them as he leapt, landing with a solid thud.

"Who are you?" He growled. And he really did growl, voice deep as a bottomless pit, deeper than Alec Ryder's own baritone. He was tall, almost Vetra's height, and was wider than a tree trunk. He looked old - Jon had never met a krogan with bony protrusions on his chin before, almost like a bony beard. That, and the fact that his frontal plate was a single piece, not several, topped with blunt spikes. The krogan's impressive entrance was further enhanced by his armor - steel-grey and dark brown, interspersed with chipped, fading yellow paint. And around his head were the bleached bones of some dead creature, carefully arranged and stuck in place on his armor, giving the krogan the look of someone not to be fucked with, an already-deadly reputation further enhanced by reminders of death.

And there went Sara, walking right up to this small walking tank, death incarnate, unperturbed.

"That was... pretty cool!"

Jon kept a tight grip on his Raptor, wired for action. As suicidal as that may be, going up against a krogan.

The krogan strode forward past them, his feet generating a bone-jarring thud every time they hit the floor. Without ceremony, he planted a foot in the dead creature's face and drew a blade from his belt. "Huh. Yeah. Guess it was."

Faster than any one of them could move, the krogan's hand shot out, grabbing the front of Sara's chestpiece, pulling her towards him. So sudden, Sara could only stare, wide-eyed, into the krogan's face. "Still haven't told me who you are."

A click. The krogan's right eye slid slowly to the barrel of Jon's weapon, mere centimeters from his head. "You've got quads, kid. But I'm the one asking questions here. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

"Oh, come on Drack, stop that," said Vetra, coming up behind Sara. The krogan's eye slid forward once more, coming to rest on the turian. "Vetra! What are you doing here?"

Sara's eyes darted to Jon. He could see the fear in her eyes, the krogan still having a tight grip on her, a gutting weapon in his other hand. But Vetra motioned to him to stand down; Jon reluctantly lowered his Raptor, giving Sara a little nod, reassuring her.

"I'm with the Pathfinder, Drack. That Pathfinder?" She gestured with her chin at Sara.

The krogan turned his slit-eyes back on Sara, scrutinizing her; she felt as though she was a specimen under a microscope. "Hrmph." He released Sara, the Pathfinder stumbling back a few steps. "Any friend of Vetra's is a friend of mine," he grumbled, turning his attention back to the dead creature, the blade in his hand arcing towards its skull. A gout of blood erupted from the creature's head as the krogan tugged on his knife, a wet squelch of tearing flesh. Sara tried not to react to the sound, taking a deep breath, composing herself.

"My name's Sara Ryder."

"I'm Drack. Clan Nakmor. You'll forgive me if I didn't just trust a stranger from the Nexus. They haven't exactly treated us krogan well."

"The uprising," murmured Jon. _Nakmor? That's Kesh's clan!_

The krogan paused in his less-than-gentle ministrations to glare at him for a moment. "What are you doing out here?"

Sara lifted her head. "Checking out these monoliths. The kett seem pretty interested in this one. Enough to build a base around it. Though..." she glanced at the dead cloaking creature and tried to calm her stomach at the bloody sounds Drack was making, cutting it up for some weird reason. "Looks like... you've cleared it out for us."

"Hah! Sad I didn't save any for you?" the krogan grinned, drawing his lips back tight against his teeth. It was gone as soon as it appeared. "Nexus knows _shit_ about the kett. They think they're safe, but they're just waiting out to die out there, in space."

With a final, almighty tug on his knife, and a shower of blood that spattered all over the floor, Drack grunted and held up something to the light, examining it - a tooth from the dead creature. He turned it over in his fingers. "I've been quads deep on a couple of planets for a while now. Taking out kett bases, fighting ground troops. I know what they can do."

Jon's eyebrow rose. If what Drack said was true, then he could be a valuable ally. As Alec Ryder told him before, " _If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles._ " But this crusty old krogan, would he be amenable enough to join them? Vetra seemed to be thinking along the same lines; she smiled and stepped forward. "You know, Drack, we could use someone with your skills."

Drack pushed himself up off the ground, wiping the blood from the creature away roughly on his armor, slipping his trophy into a pocket. "Hrmph. Tempting as that is, Vetra... I'm a little old to be carrying humans through a fight. Besides, the day I help the Nexus again, is the day the clouds part and the kett keel over." Sara stiffened as the krogan looked at her direction once more. "No offense."

"None... taken," she managed to say.

"Good!" Jon turned, keeping Drack in his field of vision as the krogan began stomping away. "'cause I'm getting bored. And the kett are getting stronger. Seemed particularly interested in this alien tech." He looked back at them, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna find go find more to shoot. Try to keep your head out there. Be seeing you, Vetra."

"Likewise, Drack."

Sara sagged as soon as the krogan was out of sight. "Sara. You alright?"

"For a moment there I thought I had bought it," she sighed in relief.

"Aw, don't be so dramatic, Pathfinder! Drack's old and grumpy, but he's okay. On his better days, that is. The uprising's a pretty sore subject for him," quipped Vetra. "He's good in a fight, though. If there's a chance you can get him on the team, better grab it. He's been through so many fights, I'm a rookie in comparison. And I've been in plenty of fights."

* * *

"We need... two of these glyphs. See if they're around here somewhere," said Sara, checking her omnitool, her hand above the console.

"Look on top of those small ones!" instructed PeeBee. Sara nearly jumped in surprise, forgetting the asari was with them. She'd been awfully quiet for a while, very unlike her. Must have been spooked by Drack.

Jon boosted himself up one of the auxiliary structures, his hand out, palm-first. Vetra took another one. "Hm. There's a... conduit of some sort. Leading to..." Jon paused at the edge, peering over it and at Sara below. "Woah. Long drop."

He backtracked a little - and found it, engraved into the black stone. He knelt and ran his scanner across the strange glyph. "Sara, found one. Sending it over to you now."

"Ditto, Pathfinder. Got one here too."

"I think... that's all we need."

Sara put her hand on the keys, S.A.M. interacting with the alien tech. Like the other two monoliths, a rumbling, blue lights. But this time, something else changed - the beams of light connecting the atmo processors shifted. Now, each beam of light erupting from the atmo processors was directed downwards instead of at each monolith, converging at a point somewhere far below, in the canyon.

"The monoliths are resonating! Could it be... QEC contact?" yelled PeeBee from below. From his perch, Jon trained his weapon at the point where the beams converged, adjusting his view through the scope - they disappeared into the calm surface of a lake, far below, the water fizzing where the beams touched it.

"I think... we've found the master switch."


	22. Vault

Trepidation.

Jon paused at the mouth of the Remnant structure. Sara and PeeBee had already forged ahead, Sara's palm towards the giant, triangular door, S.A.M. running decryption on the alien tech. Vetra was the only one who noticed Jon's discomfort, coming up to him. "Jon? What's the matter?"

 _Trepidation._

 _Jon paused at the open doorway, the doors long-since ripped or torn away by the crash. Lavi was running a handheld scanner across the various surfaces within, muttering in her own tongue. He looked back at the vast, white expanse that was the surface of Akuze, a sudden gut feeling that this wasn't a place they should be._

 _"Lavi..."_

 _"Got it! It's a simple four-digit code lock. Easy work," she waved at him. "Come on, Jon! The find of a lifetime awaits! This'll definitely make my Pilgrimage!"_

 _Jon swallowed. His M-12 Locust at the ready, he tore his gaze from the rest of Akuze, comming his superior. "Walker to base. I'm escorting Miss Lavi'Nara. May have loss of comms due to magnetic interference. How copy?"_

 _The answer was swift and short, as was Chief Engineer Rolston's style. "_ Acknowledged. Be back in two hours, captain's orders. _"_

 _"Two hours, copy. Will be back soon. Out."_

 _Static in his ear as he passed through the doorway. Lavi was bouncing excitedly, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He could feel the warmth of her three-fingered hand through his glove and her enviro-suit, the pleasant sensation at sharp odds with the current situation - he chalked it down to being alone with her, exploring the ruins of a crashed starship. He blinked and pushed the obtrusive thoughts out of his mind, electing to enjoy the moment, looking around, letting a stupid smile appear on his face as Lavi gleefully pointed out -_

"I've... been through this before. Into the deep," he managed to reply, seeing Lavi's excited eyes through her mask, in his mind. _Those damn eyes._ "Didn't turn out so well for me. Or Lavi."

"Akuze?"

He nodded tightly. " _Shit_. I'm supposed to be over it." He shook his head. His feet were ice in his boots. He realized his hands were shaking, the Raptor jiggling.

"Hey. Hey. Look at me, Jon."

Jon forced himself to look into Vetra's face; she'd bent over so her face was level with his. "I'm here. Okay? Nothing's going to happen to you, to us, this time."

Jon breathed deeply, closing his eyes, Vetra's hands on his shoulders. Opened them, his resolve returning, yet a seed of doubt remained deep within him, watered by his experience of Akuze. Watered by blood. "Okay."

" _Jon?_ " commed Lexi, concern in her voice; doubtless she'd noticed the change in his vital signs. He touched the side of his helmet.

"I'm fine, Lexi. Talk to you soon." Jon stilled as he realized what he'd just done, hand falling limply to his side. He was never curt with Lexi, a mother to him. Why did he just say what he'd said? A familiar feeling bubbled up inside him, one that pressed every berserk button he had, setting his nerves on fire, pushing at his skin, like he was about to explode from the inside -

Jon triggered the ejecting mechanism on his Raptor, catching the thermal clip that sailed out the side, midair, and slammed it back into the weapon in one fluid motion. Unnecessary, but Vetra knew it was to steel himself for what's to come, so she said nothing as PeeBee yelled at them, the triangular door breaking into halves, sliding into the ceiling and the floor. The blue light all around them, the dark closed in as Jon put one foot in front of the other, again, and again, his mouth dry, as Eos' starlight gradually turned into the dark of the Remnant vault, only the faint blue light guiding him and Vetra beside him deep into the bowels of the planet.

* * *

Sara looked about in wonder, her faceplate enhancing the low light to enable her to view her surroundings better. So much black stone, smooth-rock, everywhere. Neon-blue lines. The temperature had fallen, according to her suit's sensors. And radiation was zero. Not even background.

PeeBee was beside herself. "AW YEAH!" She leapt into the air, boosting herself up with the tiny jump-pack built into the back of her jacket, gloved finger touching the ceiling, landing gently. "It's... _glorious_ ," she lowered her voice in awe, looking about her.

Vetra's jaw hung open. "Woah."

Jon lowered his Raptor. He wasn't expecting such... beauty. He was expecting ruins, maybe, but not _this_. The place was... pristine. Untouched. The blue lines, ubiquitous, all along the floor and the walls, even the ceiling, pulsed in time to... something. And yet, the same bluish light emanated from grooves in the wall, which provided enough light for them to navigate by, and also to appreciate the angles, the straight lines.

Jon approached the wall closest to him, reaching out. The stone was cold to the touch, even through his gauntlets, like black marble. He could feel a faint vibration. It felt like... a pulse. Like the place was alive. Remembering what S.A.M. said, Jon reminded himself that this stone was about four hundred years old...

... and that the Initiative pushed off six hundred or so years ago. _So... this Remnant stuff must have been built when we were still in cryosleep, in FTL through darkspace._ The thought was mind-boggling. Six hundred years. _It's..._ he checked his chrono.

 _It's freaking 2819._

He'd never given much thought to the timeskip. But now, with what was supposed to be 'ancient' alien tech at his fingertips, and knowing he was actually older than the structure he was currently admiring... and knowing he was only aware of the years 2161 till 2185...

An odd mix of emotions welled up in Jon, none of which he could describe accurately, or even name. He traced one of the blue lines with his finger - it was slightly warmer than the stone, a slight electrical charge, nothing deadly. Pulling his finger away, he followed the lines with his eyes. All of them led to -

"No. _Nonononono!_ This... can't be right!"

PeeBee ran up to the far wall, looking to her left and right, throwing her hands up. "All that fanfare for... an empty room?!"

She was right - what Jon had assumed was the entrance hall ended abruptly in a solid stone wall. PeeBee was now hammering on the wall with her fists, for all the good it did. He couldn't even hear the thuds of her fists on the smooth-rock. He did, however, notice the triangular... _thing_ on the floor, which PeeBee had ran across to bang on the wall. He didn't quite know what it was. _A stage? A platform?_ Jon walked over to it and got down on a knee, putting his palm to the stone as the asari swung about, looking as though she'd been robbed of something promised.

Well, she was. But Jon wasn't quite ready to trust her just yet, let alone feel pity for her.

"There's some... secret here! There must be!" PeeBee stalked past Jon, gesticulating angrily at Sara. "Do your... Pathfinder thing! Whatever it is!"

Jon's scanner told him there was a void beyond the stone. He raised a hand. "Uh. Pathfinder?"

"What is it?" Vetra came over to him, her eyes narrowing as she paced around the platform's diameter, looking for anything that could help them. Sara laid a consoling hand on PeeBee's shoulder before walking over to Jon, the blue light reflecting off her faceplate. "Is it -"

At Sara's approach, the stone shifted under Jon's hand - he whipped it back, then scuttled backwards as the triangular... _thing_ split into three, irising open, stone grating on stone, revealing a...

Jon took a careful step forward and peered over the edge. A cold finger ran itself along his spine as he looked down... and down. _And down_. It was like an... air shaft. One that he couldn't see the bottom of, the shaft disappearing into the black, even with the faint blue lines running down its walls.

If this was the way forward, how were they supposed to get down to... wherever this thing was taking them? How deep did it go?

"Sam?" he murmured, widening his scanner's range.

" _Gravitational interference detected. I advise caution._ "

PeeBee came running at the sound of the thing opening. Like Vetra, she paced around the diameter of the gaping hole in the floor, looking at it, then up at Sara, a sly smile appearing on her face. "Oh, you're good, Pathfinder. A woman after my own heart."

Sara looked into the shaft. "Huh." She was just as surprised as they were by the event, but managed to wisecrack, eliciting a chuckle from Vetra and a smile from Jon. "And I make it look so easy, too."

Vetra tapped at her helmet and looked into the shaft, the ice-blue of her holovisor active behind her helmet. After a moment, she shook her head. "Long way down. Can't tell how far. Jon?"

"Sam says there's some sort of gravitational disturbance. And to be careful."

They all stood for a moment, looking into the hole in the ground. "So... any ideas? Anyone?"

Jon shook his head. "We've no proper climbing equipment. I think we should send a drone down first, see what's what. For all we know, this thing may drop us into a pool of lava or... something."

"Hey, Pathfinder, didn't you trip over a rock on our way in?"

Sara smiled shamefacedly. "Yeeeeeah. It's over by the entrance. Why?"

Vetra had already begun moving. "You'll see." She retrieved the rock, about the size of an old-Earth soccer ball, and dropped it near the edge of the hole. Panting, she gave it a gentle nudge with her foot, sending it careening into the unknown and waiting for the sound of it hitting the bottom, the ageless test for determining how far down a hole went.

Which, of course, wasn't what happened.

A meter into the fall, the rock slowed, blue light playing around its rough curves, shimmering, not unlike the aura of biotic usage. It continued its descent into the darkness, but at a more leisurely pace. PeeBee noted the phenomena with a frown on her face, while Sara, Jon and Vetra just... stared.

That was unexpected. And defied the laws of physics and gravity.

"Hm. Can't be air pressure. Electrostatic? Gravitation. Hrm." The asari cast a glance at Jon, remembering what he'd relayed to them, before something hit her, her eyes widening. "Of course! Oh you idiot, PeeBee!" She smacked herself hard on the forehead, raising her voice to share what she thought. "Guys, that wasn't the front door!" She pointed at the huge door they'd came through, then at the hole in the floor.

"This is!"

"Uh, you sure about th- WHAT ARE YOU -"

PeeBee smiled at them, and stepped off the edge of the hole. "Come on, Pathfinder!"

And fell.

Sara peered over the edge. The asari, like the rock, was descending slowly, looking around her in wonder. Not plummeting to her doom. Heart in her mouth, Sara inhaled and took a step forward.

"Sara..." Jon's brow was creased. "You sure about this?"

Sara licked her lips. _I need to be strong, like Dad._ She was the Pathfinder. She was the Nexus' only hope, and if she needed to take a leap into a hole to save it, she would. And, a part of her secretly wanted to know what it felt like, the daredevil side of her that Sara never knew she had; it made her blink, her heart thump in anticipation, but it aligned with what she needed to do, and that gave her courage.

"Lot of things we aren't sure about, Jon," she quipped, her tone light. "And sometimes, we need to take a leap into the unknown to find out how far we can go. You need to stop worrying. Now come on!"

Before Jon could say anything else, Sara hopped into the hole. Jon's heart leapt as he watched Sara sink slowly, following PeeBee. He raised a hand to his helmet. "Tempest, do you copy?"

"Krrrrrchhhhh _finder team?_ "

"We're heading into the structure we found. It leads deep underground. May have loss of comms. How copy?"

"Bzzzzzzzz _areful down there._ "

"Acknowledged. Walker, out."

"You know, Jon, Sara's right. Sometimes, you need to take risks to find out more." Vetra clapped him on the back. "But at the same time, I respect your caution. The Pathfinder doesn't know who she's got watching her back. If it were me, I'd keep you close."

"I - thanks, Vet. That means a lot."

Vetra smiled. "Shall we, then?"

* * *

Lexi sighed in frustration, a hand to her forehead. Jonathan can be so infuriating, sometimes! And yet, her eyes immediately swung over to the team's biosigns on her terminal, singling out Jon's. His pulse and respiratory rate were both still elevated, from anxiety. And now they're headed into in the unknown with no comms!

Lexi T'Perro wasn't exactly the praying sort. Life on Omega didn't leave much time or inclination for believing in a higher power, patching Father up night after night, believing she'd never get to leave the dreadful place. Mother wasn't a big fan of the goddess, too, sealing away her prayer books and the pendant that Lexi now wore around her neck into a box and shoving it into the back of their closet in their tiny home, to be forgotten.

But now, Lexi fingered the cool metal, pulling it out from the neck of her physician's jumpsuit, closed her eyes, and began to pray, half-forgotten words tumbling clumsily from her lips.

* * *

"Woah."

That was all Jon could say as he floated down the shaft, feeling light as a feather, a blue shimmering around his limbs. It was a very odd experience, not anything he'd felt before. The closest thing to... _this_ , was when he was training in zero-G, under Alec Ryder. But in training, he had complete control of the situation, able to accomplish the objectives that Ryder had set him, and failsafes were in place to prevent any accidents.

Here? He had no control over anything - at all. Not even his own body, allowing the... antigravity? - he didn't know, really - he let the effect bear him down the shaft, looking about, wide-eyed.

"This is... weird," squirmed Vetra, a little ways above him.

"Yeah."

Jon twisted his body until he could get eyes on Sara. She was about ten meters below him, reaching a hand out to touch the side of the shaft as it slid past her.

" _It's acting like a gravity well!_ " PeeBee's voice, distorted by the architecture around them, wafted up to Jon; the asari was a dwindling figure behind Sara.

"But where is it taking us?" Sara raised her voice to be heard, an edge to it.

" _Embrace the unknown, Ryder!_ " was PeeBee's cheerful reply. Jon groaned at the asari's nonchalance and tried to focus on the stone -

And jerked in alarm as he began to fall. Rapidly. _Shitshithshit -_

"WOOAAAAH!" yelled Vetra above him, her limbs flailing.

Panic. Jon brought his arms up to swipe at his omnitool, reaching for the jump-pack options. Same thing he did at Hab Seven. But... how deep was this thing? He needed a rough estimate to know how long to fire his jump-pack!

PeeBee whooped below him. "Now this is more like it!"

 _Is she crazy?!_

"Jon, relax! We're still in the grav effect! Only falling... faster," Sara called out, falling backwards, her face towards him. Jon sucked in a breath, not at all reassured by Sara's words, but noticed - after a few deep breaths and drawing in his limbs - that she was right. He could still see the shimmering around his elbows, his knees, but the stone walls, previously passing by slowly, was a blur. It was very disorienting. And panic-inducing. It felt like he was hovering in place, with no control, yet moving so quickly downwards that he felt that his eyes and brain were being deceived -

And just like that, he began to decelerate.

The blurred walls of the shaft disappeared suddenly. Jon blinked in surprise, then his eyes widened, jaw slackening.

They'd just fallen into a huge cavern - and were still falling. It was larger than any hall Jon had been in, any cave, the walls disappearing into the shadows at their furthest ends, straight edges even more pronounced now, bluish lines running along every surface. The Tempest could fit comfortably into the vast space, without needing to maneuver delicately to land.

And it was all smooth, black stone, the entire space illuminated by that blue glow, the sources of light a mystery. It lent the place a dreamlike quality, something that couldn't possibly be the product of the mind of one from the Milky Way, or in fiction. It felt... unreal, in its size and splendor. Jon felt his fingers tingle, an odd, empty feeling in his stomach. This was truly something alien to him, for someone of his upbringing and where he was from, all semblance of everything familiar, shapes, smells, sound, all out the window.

"Looks like a bunker!" Sara blurted. "Or a... vault?"

Jon looked down; the floor was approaching, the triangular platform similar to the one hundreds of meters above them now. He bent his knees in anticipation of the landing, even falling as slow as he was. Sara was already boots on the ground, looking about her as PeeBee went running about, staring in rapturous awe at the cavernous space.

Solid ground. Jon pressed himself into the stone for a moment, privately glad to have something hard under his feet again. The feeling of weightlessness vanished as Vetra's feet touched the floor, the platform humming beneath them, as if in satisfaction at bringing them safely down the entire length of the gravity well.

Jon nearly tripped over the rock, which sat innocently next to his left foot, as a flash of orange made itself known in his peripheral vision. He turned his head, a string of motes of orange lights curling past his face, swirling up towards the unseen ceiling. He reached a hand out to touch them, but they were as smoke, each mote dancing around his fingers and dwindling into nothingness, vanishing like sparks rising from a fire.

"The controls for those monoliths - atmospheric processors, whatever you call it - might be down here somewhere!" exclaimed PeeBee. "Anything could be important. Let's be thorough!"

* * *

Sara Ryder looked about her in wonder. She thought the Protheans were mysterious enough, leaving literally next to nothing for future generations to find, but now...

She turned on the spot to take in the place. The walls, the floor, even the distant ceiling - she spied a hole where the shaft ended, high above them - was smooth-rock, bluish lines - bluish-green, she corrected herself, noticing the slight variation in color - running everywhere. And the whole place was illuminated by means she couldn't fathom; there were no obvious sources of light, except the lines, and they were definitely inadequate to light up the place like this...

It made her heart beat a little faster, knowing that this - THIS - was truly alien tech. Not some little doodad that she and her squadmates once handled, and examined in minute detail by Silva himself, poring over an artifact until every centimeter had been scanned, inside and out, with his scopes and tools and scanners and... well, _everything_ that he had to dissect, quantify and analyze artifacts.

This... was bigger than anything Sara had experienced in her life. _And..._ she looked down at her hands, at the inactive sync pads on her fingers. _I have the ability to interface directly with their systems. With S.A.M._ She was in a position that Silva could only dream of. And Sara felt taller than she'd ever been, looking around her, mysteries to unravel in this new galaxy, a big smile growing on her face, the archaeologist in her screaming in delight, hopping about in ecstasy.

 _ **Pathfinder? Are you well?**_

Sara tried to suppress the giddiness she felt. "I'm great, Sam! Never better. Gather whatever data you can, will you? Suvi's going to have a field day with this."

 _ **Right away, Pathfinder.**_

The place seemed to be an entrance hall of some sort - besides the stage PeeBee was on, behind Sara, the walls narrowed towards some sort of doorway directly opposite the stage, more solid black stone, the door - Sara cast her gaze up, blinking - the door was floor-to-ceiling. Huge. If it was a door at all.

So many things to take in. Where to start?

"Hey, Ryder, do that interface thing with the console up here. See if it does anything."

Sara jogged up the gentle slope, looking around her. The place was awfully quiet, the sounds they were making amplified. The scrape of her boots against the smooth incline under her were as loud as gunshots, PeeBee's voice still echoing around the chamber - " _... ssssssss-thing-ing-ing-ing-ng-ng-ng..._ "

Sara's hand hovered over the console - it was larger, more ornate than the ones up at the atmo processors, like this was a more important one, a pair of horns emerging from the base of the processor, curving back upon themselves to seemingly study Sara as she checked her omnitool, silent stone sentinels.

A spark jumped from the console to the sync pads on her fingers, the same feeling of something flowing through her. It was curiously... odd. It didn't feel like electricity. It felt more... natural. Organic. It was like Sara could suddenly feel all the blood flowing in her veins and arteries, each nerve ending pulsing in time to her heartbeat, yet it didn't hurt, or tickle, or anything. She just... _felt_. Like it was part of her, comfortably familiar, yet foreign at the same time. She closed her eyes and concentrated on accessing the console, what function it had.

The keys rippled once and went still. The landing pad shivered and seemed to emit a pulse - the rock that Vetra had pushed into the hole ahead of them began rising, slowly, off the pad. PeeBee watched as it rose, higher and higher, before disappearing into the gloom above. "I think... that grav well works in reverse, too."

"Great! That's our way out of here, then," noted Vetra, having witnessed the rock's ascent as well. "Don't want to be stuck down here forever."

Sara could feel something, beneath her, under her feet. With a jolt, she realized she was feeling _outside_ of her body, her four limbs, beyond her five senses. She could see the power pathway on her eyelids, faint yellow lines, stretching from under her deeper into the... vault? Yes, a vault. It passed under the thing she assumed was a door, and continued on for... quite a distance. She couldn't quite see the end of the line...

"Heeeeey, you're not leaving already, are you?"

"Not till we find the processor controls," said Jon. He reached for his weapon. "Something tells me this place has defenses. More of those bots, or worse. We should be careful."

"Oh, tish-tosh. You're quite handy with a gun, sniper-boy! Taking them down faster than I ever could. Maybe I should hire you as security! Last one's complete trash."

Sara pulled her hand back from the console. She knew things, now. Information that she'd never known previously. The flowing feeling faded as she returned to her body, blinking at the return of her faculties. "Th-this... console. Only minimal power. Not enough to jump-start the atmo processors, but -"

" _Pathfinder, a conduit under the floor just activated. Fluid is running through it._ "

The yellow pathway flashed in Sara's eyes. She blinked and shook her head - her vision cleared. "Fluid?"

" _More analysis required. A scan should give sufficient data._ "

"Come on. This way," said Sara, drawing her Avenger, noting Jon's readiness.

As they followed Sara towards the portal of a door, Jon checked his omnitool, Sara's synced to his so that they could share information on-the-fly. "Conduction? Why use a liquid? And where's all that liquid coming from?"

"Remtech," drawled PeeBee. "Don't have to understand it, just know it works. For now, anyway. I'll be the one to learn all this place's secrets. With your help, of course, Ryder," she threw a salute in Sara's direction.

They came to a halt just before the portal. Sara held her hand out, uncertain, taking a step forward.

The portal... opened. Jon couldn't quite get what he saw the first time, but on reviewing his helmet feed later, he determined that the door split in half, retracting into the walls, left and right, but leaving a central column intact. Which... dissolved? The triangles making up the column simply blinked out of existence, leaving the way forward clear.

Jon raised his Raptor, keeping pace with Sara, sweeping the next room. Floor, walls, ceiling. It appeared to be a connecting hall of some sort, the ceiling lower down than the cavern they'd just left, the walls closer together. The only thing of note was a console in the middle of the room, and a triangular door ahead.

Sara blinked - the yellow line appeared in her vision once more. It ran under them still, passing the console and under the door ahead. Sara stepped up to the console, running her scanner across it.

" _Phrase recovered._ 'Must read to access.' _This console links to surface facilities, Pathfinder._ "

"It connects to the atmo processors? Then let's get activating!" PeeBee clapped her hands.

"No dice," said Sara, stepping towards the door. "There's a power line. It leads through this door. I think there's some sort of system lockdown in place. We need to find the source of it, and turn it off."

"How'd you know that?" doubted Jon.

"I can... see it. Somehow. I think it's because I've linked to the system, through Sam. A yellow line," Sara raised a finger, tracing its path through the air. "It leads to this console, and through that door."

Sara pressed her palm to the door. It shuddered under her touch, and parted.

Another cavern. This time, bright blue-white light spilled across everything, causing Jon's faceplate to tint to reduce the glare. PeeBee darted past them, eyes on the odd structure ahead that seemed to be the source of light, a hand up to allow her eyes to adjust.

A quick scan of the room told Jon it was empty. Or so he hoped. He lowered his Raptor as they approached the... thing, PeeBee looking down at something at waist-height, something else catching her fancy. A smooth-rock structure, like a table of sorts. A cylindrical item stood there, like a starship's energy cell, its center glowing blue, with caps on either end. Small enough to be held in a hand.

"Hrm. That's new."

"What... is it?" asked Sara, squinting at the item, bending over for a closer look. Jon circled away from them, brow furrowed at the bigger _thing_ ahead of them, scanning it from a distance. It reached all the way up to the ceiling - and beyond, disappearing into a hole, like the grav well they'd just come down in. This one, though had a shaft of light through it, the source of the glare.

"I dunno. A symbol of authority? A key?" The asari turned to Sara, her eyes gleaming. "It's easy to speculate with the Remnant. But we need more facts."

Jon looked at his palm quizzically, tapping it with a finger. The reading he was getting... was his scanner malfunctioning or something? He double-checked his suit's systems - everything was okay. Which made what he'd just scanned even more unsettling, more unbelievable.

So much raw power, right in front of them.

"That looks like... a grav well," said PeeBee coming up next to him. "But it's... protected? Sealed? Those things look kinda dangerous." She pointed at the slabs of floating black stone hovering around the shaft of light, seemingly shielding the well from them.

"Don't go near them. That thing," Jon swallowed. "Is a Level Four electrical hazard. Over _seven hundred thousand_ milliamps. Or seven hundred amps."

"How much does it take to kill... us?" asked Vetra haltingly.

"Unprotected? Thirteen amps."

In unison, they backed away from the grav well. Now that Jon had a closer look, he could see arcs of electricity jumping from each stone to another, the stones casting long shadows across the floor, interspersed with the brilliant blue-white glare, providing respite from the light.

He wondered what seven hundred milliamps could do to them, if they'd touched one of the stones. At Level Three, their life support systems would have fried almost instantaneously, as well as all their suits' V.I.s. At Four, would they melt on the spot?

"Oooookay. Anyway, Ryder," PeeBee held up the Remnant thing in her hand. "I'll see what I can find on this beauty. Maybe over... this way." She pointed at a small doorway to their left, past the electrified grav well, the corridor past the doorway illuminated softly with blue light.

Sara's yellow line led past PeeBee to a triangular archway to their _right_ instead, an opening to another cavern. She blinked. "Uh, whatever has this place on lockdown is _that_ way," she countered, pointing as well.

PeeBee dropped her arm and shrugged, smiling. "No biggie. I do my best work solo. You fix up this place, this vault, I'll investigate this relic-thing, and together we'll figure this place out. Cool?"

"Hey, slow down, PeeBee. You don't watch many horror vids, do you? We've no idea what's down here!" protested Sara. "Like Jon said, more of those bots, or worse."

"Yeah, we don't. And we never will, if we miss something because we're huddled in a group. Oh, you," PeeBee placed a hand on Sara's shoulder and pushed lightly. "Wipe that worried look off your face! I'll be careful. It's so sweet that we barely know each other and you're already worrying about me!"

Sara blushed, but managed to keep her voice level. "Just... stay on comms, alright?"

"You got it, Pathfinder! Stay safe!" The asari linked to their comm net and jogged off without a backwards glance.

Vetra shrugged. "Don't look at me."

Jon exhaled. "Well. She's got spunk. Otherwise, no comment."

* * *

"They dug this place through solid rock," breathed Sara.

"Look at the ceiling. Those... star-things must be bracing it," said Vetra in a low voice.

Jon noted the feature Vetra mentioned, though his attention was focused below them, his omnitool active, eyes narrowed at the strangeness of it.

A pool of rippling fluid, lapping quietly at the sloped floor. It was black.

"That same fluid you mentioned, Sam?" he asked, moving carefully down the sloped floor to come up to the edge of the fluid, allowing his scanner to run across the ink-black surface. "This a whole pool of it. A lot of conductive material, if it's for power."

" _Correct, Engineer Walker. It is the same fluid as before. However, it is unclassifiable based on current scientific knowledge within the Nexus databases._ "

"Truly alien," murmured Sara, looking out over the rippling black. It felt like they were on the shore, looking out over a sinister ocean. "Come on. Let's keep moving."

Traversing across the pool was easier than Jon had anticipated. Stone columns protruded from the fluid, easily reachable via jump-pack, and they crossed the pool without incident, Vetra even somersaulting during the last leap to the other side, whooping. "Hey, this is fun!"

Jon smiled. The usually-serious Vetra, having fun?

Sara poked her head around a column. "Uh oh. Got two of the bots ahead, the ones with legs. What did PeeBee call them again?"

Jon peered around the same column, using only an eye, Vetra crouching behind them. Two-legged, angry-red-eye-lens. "I think 'Assemblers.' She said they create smaller bots?"

"Well, they seem to be on patrol," noted Sara. "I'd rather we just get past them without firing a shot. We've limited thermal clips, and I've used three."

"Agreed, Pathfinder," said Vetra, nodding. "Better to conserve ammo for when we need it. Who knows how deep this vault goes?"

They darted from column to column, following the wall on their right, scanning for bots. None along their projected path. Those two Assemblers to their left seemed to be interested in patrolling only their assigned areas, waddling around slowly on bent legs, not even looking up when Vetra accidentally dropped a thermal clip while loading her Cyclone, the _clack_ loud in the quiet.

"They seem... territorial. Only responds to threats in their immediate area," Jon made a mental note, unfazed by the loud sound, eyes on the bots.

"Thank the spirits," sighed Vetra in relief, unfreezing, working the mechanism on her rifle, an embarrassed look on her face.

"Er... guys?"

Jon threw his hands up in exasperation as he saw what Sara was gawking at. "How big do they need to make their... things?!"

Sara sank to her knees in wonder, even as Vetra dropped her Cyclone, the clattering much louder than a thermal clip striking the black stone. The view was breathtaking. If the cavern they'd been in, the entrance hall through that grav well, was big, that was nothing.

Nothing, in comparison to the massive underground city they were looking at right now.

At least, Jon thought it was a city. The black stone around them fell away to a huge space ahead of them, as far as the eye can see, even with his head turned to either side. There was a mist of some sort blanketing the floor of the massive cavern, through which numerous pyramids of black stone rose, their points poking through the mist to meet points from their counterparts descending from the ceiling, upside-down pyramids, their bases lost in gloom, the ceiling black - if there was a ceiling at all. The space was so unbelievably huge, Jon had to compare it to the next-biggest thing that popped into his head - the Wards of the Citadel. It was...

He shook his head. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Tearing his eyes away from the spectacle, he checked the path ahead, focusing on what he _could_ comprehend. He thumped himself on the helmet, making sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Pathfinder? Are you seeing -"

"Yep."

"You believe this -"

"Nope."

Vetra sighed and bent over, retrieving her Cyclone and folding it away. "It's too much, even for me. I'm out."

"Hang a sec, I'm getting all I can," Sara called out. "Sam, you got this?"

" _Affirmative, Pathfinder. You may proceed._ "

"Great! Better get a move on before I fall in love with this place."

* * *

"Another... aqueduct? Pool? Spirits, how many do they need?"

"I think that fluid's kinda like omnigel. But with properties that our science can't explain," theorized Jon. He paused. "That's... a shit-ton of Remnant omnigel, if that's the case. Damn. I can't even begin to wrap my head around... everything here, really."

" _Comm check! It's... well, you know who_."

"We read you, PeeBee. Stay in touch."

" _Just crossed a pool of weird liquid on my end. It burns, though, so whatever you do, don't touch it. Ow._ _Wish I'd brought my hazard suit now_."

"Noted."

A whirring noise ahead. Jon boosted himself atop a column, kneeling, his Raptor up and scanning. "Five Assemblers. Three your level, two on mine. And no way we can sneak past; we'll have to take them head-on. How'd you want to do this, Sara?"

The Pathfinder eyed Vetra's rifle. "That thing puts out a lot of rounds?"

"Too many, sometimes, but it does keep the rabble at bay," hummed Vetra. "What do you have in mind?"

Sara handed off the Avenger to her left hand, raising her right. Biotic energy danced around her fingers.

"Oho. I'm going to enjoy this," grinned Vetra, priming her Cyclone for close-quarters.

"On your go, Jon."

It was hardly a fair fight, in Jon's opinion, Sara pulling three Assemblers towards Vetra so her Cyclone could tear through them at less than a meter's distance, fatal. Jon managed to put a sniper's sliver square into one of the remaining Assembler's lens, the bot wobbling and smoking before toppling off the edge of the black stone cliff they were on, whining all the way to the bottom. The fifth he dispatched with a flurry of assault fire, disabling its legs, Vetra closing the distance to finish the job.

They were turning away from the Remnant city now, heading towards another triangular door, framed by an ornate archway, a long fall to their left - S.A.M. estimated it was about a hundred or so meters. Definitely not survivable, even with a jump-pack. Jon kept close to the wall, following Sara and Vetra, checking his six every couple of seconds, in case those bots -

" _Yoohoo!_ "

Across the chasm was another cliff like the one they were on, another triangular doorway. A familiar shape was there, waving at them. " _Hey, Pathfinder!_ "

"PeeBee!" Sara waved back.

" _Guess what? That relic I found? Not a symbol of authority!_ " The asari jumped a little, waving the item in her hand. Her voice was faint, nearly swallowed up by the sheer space around them, the quiet that it brought. " _Bots still shoot at me! I'll try unlocking it with one of those data patterns I found here!_ "

A holo popped up on Sara's omnitool; she frowned as she consulted the image, the blue glyphs undecipherable to her. "Is that a good idea?" she commed.

" _Hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained!_ " yelled the asari across the divide. " _I'll see you soon! The paths seem to converge again ahead! Hopefully we won't meet any more bots!_ "

Sara threw a salute PeeBee's way before turning back, looking at the floor. She seemed to be following a line with her gaze, her eyes tracing the path they'd just taken, to the door ahead. "Through here."

Jon wondered what she was seeing. To have an A.I. in your head...

The triangular door rumbled as it retracted into the ceiling and floor. A corridor that curved to their left, out of sight behind black stone walls, only dimly lit by the lines along the walls. Jon felt his grip tighten on the grip of the Raptor.

It was perfect for an ambush. Unknown terrain, poor vision, enemies that could blend in with their surroundings... even if said enemies were weak enough to fall under a couple of accelerator rounds. Jon didn't like it one bit. It reminded him too much of the Verge. Slaver ambushes were so common, they were to be expected.

"This looks fun," he muttered, flicking on nightvision on his faceplate. "Could be a trap, Sara. I'll lead the way. Vetra, watch our six."

* * *

As it turned out, the corridor was just that - a corridor. Weird lamps though, pedestals sliding up out of the floor when they approached, cubes of Remnant stone hovering close to each other, shifting about constantly, forming a larger cube. Blue-white light spilled from the spaces between the cubes, with no discernible source.

" _It appears to be an illumination device, Engineer Walker. Composition: two percent unknown material. Ten percent xenon. Thirty-seven percent unknown material. Fifty-one percent unknown material. It triggered on your approach._ "

They emerged from the corridor, boots silent on the cold stone floor. Jon lowered his Raptor, surveying the scene, already plotting the path ahead in his mind. Sara came up next to him, blinking. "This... is incredible."

Vetra folded her Cyclone away. "You could say that again, Pathfinder."

A long cavern. Here, the Remnant architecture gave way to natural rock formations, pillars of brown Eos rock holding up the ceiling, at sharp odds with the Remnant black, the Remnant structures here merely part of the scene this time. The blue light was still persistent here, but muted, not as bright as the blue in the Remnant caverns they'd traversed through, allowing other colors to dominate for a change.

Which was why their eyes were drawn immediately to the center of the long cavern, the sight so unexpected that Sara shook her head, wondering if it was part of the Remnant system that only she could see. Judging from Vetra's reaction, she could see it too. Jon's hands were on his hips, studying the pair of trees ahead of them, silent.

Trees. Honest-to-God greenery. After all that sharp edges and angular structures, Sara's eyes watered at the gentle curves of something organic. Alien trees, no doubt, but still. She turned on the spot, taking in the entirety of the cavern, so very different from what they'd seen so far.

"Trees? Here?" asked Vetra. "How?"

"Beats me. Let's get a closer look!" said Sara.

They used their jump-packs, aiming for safe landings away from the edges, the Remnant floor falling away into a lake of dark liquid beneath them, too far down to climb back up again. Remnant columns formed islands of sorts in the empty space, the two trees elevated above the other columns. Sara approached the first one, scanning it, wondering if she should watch for the tree's natural defenses, if it had any.

The _tree_ were _trees_ , apparently, on closer inspection, because several smaller trunks twined around a central one, each trunk segmented. Their leaves were huge, each easily larger than Sara herself, or even Vetra, curling out and upwards, collectively forming a large bulb, each leaf consisting of several shades of green, from mint at the base of the leaves, to shamrock, to lime at the tips.

Jon read off the details of his scan, his omnitool active. "Thallose lifeform. There's chlorophyll in there somewhere, too, hence the green. Unknown if it takes in water, or nutrients. Hrm. Looks like this," Jon tapped one of the minor trunks with a finger. "Is one of the trees we've seen on the surface, on the way over to the atmo processors. Slight DNA deviation, though. I think this one here's the actual plant. Those up there? Messed up by the radiation."

Sara's scan provided the same information, S.A.M. adding, " _Despite their current state of healthy growth, Pathfinder, these plants do not seem adapted for a subterranean environment._ "

"How long have they been here?"

" _Unknown. Possibly from before the Scourge arrived and irradiated the surface._ "

"No sunlight? No water?" breathed Sara. "They should be dead. How?"

" _The source of the system lockdown may yield more information. We appear to be close. The power line terminates just ahead._ "

"Well, let's lift that lockdown first, then. The scientists on the Nexus are going to have a fit seeing this," quipped Sara.

"Ooh, plant science. Can't wait," Vetra joked.

The next tree was a little harder to get to, and they needed to get to it to pass to the next section. Sara stroked the chin of her helmet with a hand as she contemplated the chasm that separated them from the second island. "Well, no columns here this time. Too far for jump-packs."

"Maybe this can help?" said Jon, patting the console next to him.

Sara accessed the console. This time, there was no stab of pain, or weird feelings throughout her body. The keys rippled once and went still. Sara waited, her hand still hovering above the keys.

Nothing.

"Huh?" Vetra looked about for something that would have changed with Sara's interfacing. "Why's there... is the thing busted?" The turian knocked on the side of the console before leaning forward to peer over the edge of the island they were on -

And jumped back as something popped into existence at the edge, disappearing just as quickly. Too fast for the eye to catch. A flash, that was it.

Jon's Raptor was aimed at... whatever it was as soon as Vetra scrambled back, his body tense. "What... was that? Vet, you okay?"

"Y-yeah. So sudden. Nothing moves that fast," breathed the turian, wary now.

Sara placed a hand on the barrel of the Raptor, gently pushing the weapon down. "It's okay, Jon. It's a bridge."

Jon's brow furrowed. _Bridge? What bridge?_

Sara stepped towards the edge where Vetra'd peered over. As if waiting for her, the same Remnant triangles they've been seeing practically everywhere popped into existence out of thin air, rippling, forming a long, flat bridge from their island to the next. Sara placed a foot on the bridge, pressing down, testing her weight.

"It's solid," she reported.

They crossed the bridge, Vetra muttering, "Welcome to Andromeda: walk on air. Ugh. Wished the brochures mentioned that."

They paused momentarily at the second island, the tree there similar to the first, before they turned their attention to crossing another bridge to the other side, towards a triangular door. For some reason, stepping off the bridge onto the next section, Jon felt... something. He looked about carefully before kneeling, placing his hand on the floor, staying very still. Sara felt it too; she turned her head, looking for the... pulsation? Vibration?

Jon said quietly, "Feel that? This platform. It's... resonating. With something. It's different from what we've felt so far. It's..." He paused to find the words. "Constant. Powerful. And not mechanical."

"The heart of the vault," murmured Sara. "I guess this is where the lockdown was initiated, Sam?"

" _Correct, Pathfinder. Energy levels are elevated past the door, but it is safe to enter._ "

"Ready?" Sara looked to Jon and Vetra. They drew their weapons and nodded - if this was the center of the whole thing, there would definitely be resistance. Sara exhaled and palmed the door.

Yet another cavern. But this one pulsed with energy, the blue-white glow so much brighter than that sealed grav well. The reason became apparent as they stepped into the cavern proper through a short transition hallway, looking up at it.

A beam of energy, spilling from an overhead... beak, nozzle, whatever it was, into a receptacle in the floor. As they drew closer to it, Jon could make out that the beam was actually a thick stream of glowing... fluid. The nozzle itself wasn't one large piece - it rippled as the energy spilled from it, multiple pieces forming a wavelike pattern as they moved. The walls here were different, too. Entire huge pieces, like oversized tiles, broken only by the roots of unseen trees, the roots curling into every crack they could find, stretching all the way from the ceiling to the farthest wall, to the crack in the floor by Vetra's foot.

And it was _loud_. Sort of. Jon could feel the resonation in his chest, and yet all he heard was a low but persistent hum, but that apparently was enough to drown out what Vetra was saying as she looked at him through her helmet's faceplate. Jon blink-accessed his settings, turning volume up. _Sound cancellation?_

" _\- anything like it._ "

"I've just about given up on trying to understand this stuff, Vet," Jon shrugged wearily. "For one, I could use some sky. All this black rock is getting on my nerves."

Sara pointed at a console; it was right up against the energy flow. If she stood there and reached a hand out, she could dip a finger into it. "That must be the lockdown console."

" _Correct, Pathfinder. Interfacing with it will grant full control of the vault's systems, and the lockdown can be lifted._ "

"Then... let's do it."

Sara pressed her hand to the keys. At her touch, they sank into the console, and stayed down. Sara closed her eyes and let S.A.M. do the talking, a faint buzzing in her ears, flashes behind her eyelids. All conduits led here, and she was talking to the Remnant machine, _ordering it to lift it, lift the lockdown, the conduits filling with fluid at her command, power flowing once more through the entire..._

She gasped involuntarily. For the briefest of moments, she could feel... _the entire network. The entire conduit network, spanning hundreds of kilometers, all over... Eos? The entire planet. She was borne along by the fluid, faster than water released from a dam, hitting checkpoints and unlocking previously-inaccessible sites..._

Jon took a step back as the thick flow of fluid in front of them stopped completely, suddenly, the blue-white glare vanishing in an instant, the low hum halting as well, replaced by silence. The blue lines running along the surface of the nozzle had turned an angry shade of scarlet, the red spreading outwards, traveling along each blue line, until the whole chamber was eerily bathed in a dim red glow.

" _The system lockdown is disabled. The vault and the atmosphere processors should return to full operation,_ " intoned S.A.M. via Jon's omnitool. Sara lifted her hand off the console, opening her eyes. "Woah."

" _Ryder? You fixed the lockdown, didn't you?_ "

"PeeBee? Where are you?" commed Sara.

" _I have... no idea, really. Not like there's a map I can refer to. Anyway, the whole place is lighting up on my end. Power readings are off the chart!_ "

A pause. No witty remark, her voice uncertain.

" _Really, really off the chart..._ " The asari's voice trailed off.

Jon slowly reached for his Raptor. He had a sudden feeling that something was definitely wrong, even if they'd just lifted the lockdown. Vetra beat him to the punch, her face lit up in red, angling her head his way.

"I have a bad feeling about this."


	23. Clear Skies

" _The system lockdown is disabled. The vault and the atmosphere processors should return to full operation._ "

Sara lifted her hands off the console's keys, slowly, reluctantly. That heady feeling of so much energy all around her, it was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. There was warmth where there was only cold previously, music where there was silence, activity where there was quiescence...

Life where there was once death.

 _It's..._

She couldn't find the words. She wondered if there were _even_ words to describe how she'd felt right this moment, an emptiness that had begun to spread through her body at the absence of her touch of the Remnant technology. _Was this what Dad felt, when he interfaced with the atmo processor on Habitat Seven?_

Sara opened her eyes. She looked around, blinking in surprise at the changes in the chamber, the blue lines now red, the absence of the thick flow of fluid they were ogling at, the chamber darker without its glow. And the quiet. It was so... _unsettlingly_ quiet, the resonation gone. She could hear her own breathing, and the scrape of Jon's boots on the stone behind her. The old-Earth adage, "So quiet you can hear a pin drop" seemed particularly appropriate at this moment.

 _Red? Didn't the atmo processor Dad interfaced with glow_ blue _?_

" _Ryder? You fixed the lockdown, didn't you?_ "

Sara jumped at the transmission, a burst of sound in the silence. PeeBee! Where was the asari, anyway? Didn't she say that she would link up with them?

Sara opened the comm channel. "PeeBee? Where are you?"

" _I have... no idea, really. Not like there's a map I can refer to. Anyway, the whole place is lighting up on my end. Power readings are off the chart!_ "

Sara felt a thrill as she heard the excitement in the asari's voice. So by lifting the lockdown - those weird feelings she had, like she was out of her own body - she'd just restored power to the entire vault? Maybe even the Remnant network throughout Eos, where its facilities are, besides this vault? How? That fluid they've seen, flowing around the place? What was this vault anyway? What was its purpose?

" _Really, really off the chart..._ "

The smile faded from Sara's face as she noticed the caution in PeeBee's voice, an abrupt change from exhilaration. A tap on her elbow; Sara turned, Jon motioning to the space around them with a hand, his weapon at the ready. A quick look to her left: Vetra also had her weapon out, her body tense, sweeping for threats. Something was off, for the both of them to be cautious, and it seems that PeeBee too, must have felt it.

"I have a bad feeling about this," murmured Vetra. Sara cast her eyes about: what was wrong? There were no threats that she could see! She held her hands out, broadcasting on their shared comm channel. "C'mon, guys. The vault's back online! We should be good to -"

 _ **Pathfinder, lifting the lockdown triggered a function in the Remnant mechanism. I am unable to identify its purpose, nor was I able to stop it. It's source is located directly ahead, past the fluid receptacle.**_

Sara stared at the far wall of the chamber, past the receptacle as Sam said. She couldn't see, flicking her faceplate's low-light setting on, squinting into the strange dark that had seemed to - _wait, was that there when we first came in here?_

Something was off, but Sara couldn't really pinpoint _what_ , exactly. It seemed to be getting darker and darker - it dawned on her. The darkness itself, spreading outwards like living shadow, moving fast like a dust cloud. It was black, so black that even the black stone was swallowed by the cloud, shadow, whatever it was, darker than black. It was rapidly moving towards them, already half the chamber darkened by it, the illumination fading fast.

It felt unnatural. Inexorable. Coming towards them like a hungry predator after its prey. Cold ran down Sara's arms as she took an involuntary step back, her subconscious already priming her to run in the face of the unknown.

"Sara..." Jon was tensed up, having already noted the possible threat, ready to make a break for it. She didn't need further prompting, the blood already flowing fast and furious in her own veins.

"GO!"

* * *

Pelessaria B'Sayle had seen many things. In her hundred or so years of life - she couldn't quite recall how old she was exactly... _what did it didn't matter anyway?_ \- she'd done... everything. That she could think of, anyway. On either side of the law. With and without permission from her mom and sister. _Nag-nag-nag, old biddies_. Gotten into more scrapes than anyone else she'd known, and she was still standing at the end of it all.

And looked good doing it too. No scars or anything, see?

Which left her free to pursue even _more_ things, things that she'd never experienced. Like this Remnant vault that the Pathfinder had conveniently opened up for her, after months of banging on that thingy outside and giving names to the Observers and Assemblers she'd seen across all three processors. And this... battery?

She held the cylinder up to eye level. She'd found a couple of these things on the outside, at those random Remnant sites she'd stumbled upon while scouring Eos' surface. Tried plugging Initiative tech to them, but nothing happened. _So... probably not a battery. What could it be, then?_

And the answer - most probably - was again, courtesy of the Pathfinder, and that A.I. she had in her head. _A data core! Maybe._ Like she'd told the Pathfinder, without facts, all they had - all she had - was pure speculation. For all she knew, it could be what she'd originally thought it was - a battery, a power cell, whatever. But the glyphs! And the power that ran through the walls! She could feel the vault thrumming with that energy! And those consoles... she envied the Pathfinder so much, for being able to communicate directly with the system! But, she _did_ show the Pathfinder how _she'd_ found out how to access a console...

PeeBee's head shot up from the thing she was holding as she felt the change in the air. The thrumming - it's gone. Wait, no, it wasn't - it's... changed. A lower pitch. And intense, too, nearly bone-jarring. She gasped as the lines in the small room she'd found, where she'd been sitting on the floor trying to figure out this thing, turned red, bathing her in the color of danger. She sprang to her feet, accessing her comms. "Ryder! You fixed the lockdown, didn't you?"

PeeBee exited the room, coming face-to-face once more with a gaping chasm, the bottom of which she couldn't see. She shuddered and began retracing her steps down the path she'd taken. She'd been mistaken when she'd yelled across the wide open space at the Pathfinder and her team, thinking there was a way for them to link up - all she'd found, going through the doorway, was this empty room. And some weird Remnant stuff. Shards, slim pieces of black rock that didn't seem like they'd chipped off the walls. PeeBee could feel them digging into the skin of her hip through the pouch in which she'd slipped them in.

The red continued to spread, replacing the blue-white light that PeeBee had gotten so used to. She kept her voice light, playful, though she reached down and undid the clasp on her Sidewinder's holster, hand hovering it, ready for anything, eyes narrowed, seaching for threats.

" _PeeBee? Where are you?_ "

The asari opened her mouth to reply, then decided to take the path of least resistance. Couldn't hurt to be a little mouthy, could it? "I... have no idea, really. Not like there's a map I can refer to. Anyway, the whole place is lighting up on my end. Power readings are off the chart!"

And they were. She'd set her omnitool to a b-spec scan, and the results that were coming in caused her to blink in surprise. Some of the surges her omnitool were picking up had the energy equivalent to a frigate's engine output! She looked about in awe, picking up the pace, following the red lines as they continued to spread.

A rumble beneath her feet. PeeBee skidded to a halt, eyes wide. _That... isn't normal._ She lowered herself onto a knee, focusing her omnitool's beam into the stone under her.

"Really, really, off the chart..." she mumbled, the playfulness gone out of her as she read the results of the scan off her omnitool's screen, a warning flashing urgently at her.

 _Oh crap_.

* * *

 _The rumble made Jon look up, squinting._

 _How was it so dark? Ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago, sunlight was streaming in through the stained, dirty windows. Now there was only black. Jon set the sputtering welder's torch down, shutting off the power supply with his foot, lifting the ancient welding mask off his face, blinking. The warehouse's overhead lights had come on, bathing sections of the floor in a yellow glow. He frowned and checked his cobbled-together omnitool - it'd only been half an hour since they got here, after lunch! What was going on?_

 _How did it become night so quickly?_

 _"_ Kuso! _Jon! We gotta move!"_

 _Ches was hightailing it to the warehouse's doors, shrugging on his jacket as he ran. Alarm bells went off in Jon's head; without further ado he vaulted over the workbench, tossing his mask aside, running to keep up with Ches. Nimbly winding his way through the scrap metal and junk that littered the warehouse floor, any of them liable to slice his calves open, Jon hopped onto a stack of wooden crates, using them to propel him over the rusting conveyor belts, landing and rolling once, on his feet immediately._

 _He caught his jacket, tossed at him by Ches. Few things could incite such a reaction from his_ heng dai _, leaving so soon after they'd arrived here, and one of them was slowly crystallizing in his mind, given what he'd seen so far. As if to emphasize his thoughts, another rumble echoed throughout the warehouse, rattling the windows, shaking the hastily patched-up walls; Jon could feel it in his chest, the deep boom._

 _"That what I think it is?" he yelled; the wind was whistling through the gantries above now, through the broken glass of the windows. Ches put his shoulder to the door, pushing it open a crack. Jon gathered up their bags, making sure they were zipped shut, before joining Ches at the door. Ches' jacket flapped in the huge gust of wind that blew through the crack, squeezing his eyes nearly closed at the force of it._

 _Jon could smell something sour in the air, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood._

 _"_ Suan yu! _" yelled Ches over the howling of the wind. "We need to get back to the bunkhouse, now!"_

 _Jon wasted no time in replying, handing Ches his bag, swinging his around his shoulder. They squeezed out the crack in the door to the street outside; Jon fumbled with an errant piece of crumpled paper that had whipped into his face, tossing it back into the wind. Ches was booking it, already half a block away, glancing over his shoulder._

 _"_ Fai _, Jon!_ Fai! _"_

 _Jon took off after Ches, worn shoes thumping on the centuries-old asphalt and stone. The sour smell was stronger now, a hiss in the air that drowned out the howling of the wind. Jon skidded around the corner, grabbing a rusting street sign to aid him in changing direction. He used the moment to look behind him - and his eyes widened at the behemoth of an acid rainstorm that was bearing down on New Canton, the sky black all the way to the horizon, angry grey-red rainclouds bearing down on them. Already, he could hear the thunderous rattle of the roofs down at the docks being struck by the rain, a constant noise that sounded like a single sound, a roar._

 _He'd heard of the urban legend of Old Huang. Elderly, been around since... forever. Even Boss Chang and the other Bosses spoke of him in hushed tones. Typical grumpy old man, but had a heart of gold, helping the less fortunate in the New Canton slums, personally handing out food at the Xin Da shelter every day. Good karma, all around._

 _That was, until he got caught out in a_ suan yu _, walking his dog. So unexpected, so sudden, the wiry gent didn't even have time to shuffle to the nearest shelter before it enveloped New Canton, causing three artificial islands off the coast to sink after breaking up from corrosion, collapsing fifteen derelict buildings, and killing maybe fifty people._

 _The worst acid rainstorm ever to hit New Canton, according to the elders._

 _Old Huang? There was nothing left of him but bones, after the storm, and even those were like putty in the first responders' hands. His dog had completely dissolved, nothing left of the mutt except a half-melted collar from the previous century._

 _Jon didn't want to wait and see if the myth was true. His lungs burned, his jacket flapping as he ran for his life, the storm like a slobbering, hungry beast, maw open, ready to swallow him whole._

* * *

The darkness closed in, like the rainstorm. But it wasn't as simple as raindrops impregnated with heavy doses of acid, this time. He couldn't quite tell what it was. Shadow? Poison gas? Nanotechnology? He dialed up the volume enhancers on his helmet, but he heard nothing, just the echoes of Sara's last words, and the rustle of his skin against the inside of his suit, his breathing.

It was... unnatural. No sound at all? Jon's skin prickled; instinct screamed at him that if they don't get moving, it _will_ kill them. Somehow. His blood sang in his ears, his muscles tensing up, ready for anything. "Sara...?" he asked, casting a glance at Vetra. The turian was on edge too, giving him a tight nod. "We need to..." she began.

"GO!"

 _Movemovemove!_ He turned at Sara's command, wound up so tightly that he was already three steps ahead of her and Vetra, heading back towards the door they came through -

\- which stayed dark, even as Sara pressed her palm against it, the blue lines on it gone, a solid slab of black rock. Sara pushed against the rock, but it still refused to budge. _Shit_. Jon ran his hands across the black stone, hurriedly looking for anything, a light, perhaps, an interface that they've missed. He didn't dare look behind them, not wanting to know how close the darkness was, Sara panicking, slapping the rock with a hand now -

"This way!"

Vetra was gesturing urgently, a side passage they failed to notice previously now open. Jon grabbed Sara by the elbow, directing her towards Vetra. "Come on!"

"Where does it go?!" Sara yelled, her voice higher-pitched than usual. If they weren't running for their lives, she would have blinked, wondered at that. Adrenaline, perhaps? But the fact was lost on her as she nearly tripped over something that had protruded from the floor, Vetra's long arm shooting out to steady her. They were sprinting down a long, diamond-shaped corridor, the walls slanting away from them. More of the things that Sara'd nearly tumbled over were now popping up along the length of the floor, beams of orange lights erupting from them, rotating, _almost like Alliance warning strobes_ , noted Jon. The kind in hangar bays, in the barracks, usually accompanied by a warning tone and an announcement. The revolving lights made it easy to navigate the gloom, the three of them following the lights instinctively, even as Jon and Vetra were wondering the same question that Sara had just asked.

Vetra slowed and spun to check their progress. The liquid darkness was still behind them, now in the passageway they were in, the chamber disappearing into the black, coming towards them. "I don't know! But whatever that is, I don't think we should stick around to find out!"

"PeeBee! Get back to the entrance, now!"

" _I saw it! What is that thing?!_ "

"Don't risk it, just go!"

The long passageway opened into another cavern, like the one with the two alien trees they'd been in. And there were plenty of chasms, each one too wide to jump across. Other details eluded Jon as he skidded to a halt by a console, only one word driving him forward: ESCAPE.

Sara slowed her pace, her hand already reaching out to interface with the console -

\- still too fast. She tried to jam her heels into the floor, but it only resulted in her becoming a human cannonball, the momentum flipping her forwards, barreling straight at Jon.

"Shiiiiiiiiii-"

Jon pushed himself forward, three steps. He needed to stop Sara's forward motion now, before they both get knocked into the abyss, and the only way to do so... he grimaced and lunged, hoping Sara would forgive him later.

They collided hard, chestpieces clashing, a loud _clack_ , Jon angling slightly so that Sara slammed into his right chest and shoulder. She let out an "Oof!" that he could hear through both their helmets, and he tottered from the blow, half-falling, quickly latching a hand onto Sara's arm. She slid to a rest just before the lip, her hand gripping Jon's forearm tightly, her eyes wide, breathing hard.

"You alright?"

"Yeah!"

No time for conversation; Sara pushed herself to her feet and slammed a palm onto the console. Jon winced slightly and followed her and Vetra across the Remnant bridge that materialized, now taking up the rear, sparing a moment to look behind him.

The dark kept coming. His suit's external sensors were reading magnetic and electrical interference, the magnitudes of which were fatal to humans. Already, his sensors were spazzing slightly even with the dark still some distance away. Jon picked up the pace, his lungs burning.

Sara winced, as she ran, a dull ache in her chest. She hoped nothing was broken; it was a drastic move by Jon, but it did save her from falling into that chasm. Her vision was blurring from the exertion of running, and her cap was uncomfortably heavy and wet with sweat. How long more? How further more? This was worse than those training sessions back on Mars!

 _ **Pathfinder, I've found a path that will take you directly back to the entrance hall. Superimposing the path on your HUD.**_

"This way!" she called out, adjusting her direction. "Sam's got the way out!"

* * *

"Pathfinder? Pathfinder?! Ryder, do you copy?"

Suvi nearly knocked over her cup of tea when the burst of static came through the comm channel. According to the mission clock, it had been almost three hours, standard time, since they'd lost comms with the team, approaching dusk. She could hear them now, their exchanges, but for some reason her transmissions weren't making it through. She turned worriedly to Kallo, who was stroking his chin. "Hm. Interesting. That comm burst came in at the same time _that_ happened," he pointed out the viewport.

Three shafts of bright blue light speared the sky, outlining clouds in teal. Suvi's mouth fell open. "What? How?"

"Seems to be coming from the atmo processors," noted Kallo, checking a satellite view of Eos. "Three processors, three beams."

"I can't get through to them! They're in trouble! _Kallo, what do we do?_ " Suvi's heart was pounding. She stood, unable to sit still, staring down at her screens as yet another transmission came through, her tea forgotten, mind blank. Nothing in training prepared her for this, to be able to hear what was going on but unable to do anything about it!

" _I saw it! What is that thing?!_ "

" _Don't risk it, just go!_ "

"Suvi, take a deep breath," instructed Kallo. He remained seated, the very image of calm. Suvi did just that, but it did little to alleviate her anxiety. "We can't do anything. We're up here, and they're down there. That's it, deep breaths. Count to three. Another breath. Yes."

Suvi's pulse slowed a little. She slowly sank back into her couch, clasping and unclasping her hands nervously. "T-thanks, Kallo. You're right. I suppose... I suppose all we can do now..." She trailed off.

"Is hope." He paused. "Are you religious, Suvi?"

"I am."

"Then pray. Pray that they'll make it out, somehow. Only then we can do something about it."

Kallo Jath, cool as a cucumber. Suvi felt a tinge of embarrassment and envy at his ability to stay calm as she nodded tightly and closed her eyes, mouthing a prayer silently, resorting to doing something that she could. With her eyes closed, she failed to notice that Kallo was monitoring the situation on his own screens, his lips thin and bloodless, blinking more than was usual, even for him.

Several rooms aft, Dr. Lexi T'Perro, having heard the entire thing through the shared comm channel, rubbed her pendant furiously with a finger and thumb, an eye on the still-unconscious Lieutenant Harper.

In the rear of the ship, Ship Engineer Gil Brodie looked up, then back down at his feet, rubbing at the stubble on his chin, then picking up one of his tools and studying it intently, but failing to divert his attention to something else, a first for him, he scowled as he threw the tool down and began pacing the engineering bay instead.

They waited.

* * *

" _It's sweeping the whole vault! Kills anything in its way!_ "

"Yeah, we see it too!" panted Vetra.

They'd passed several alien trees, the darkness hot on their heels. The turian checked their progress - her blood turned to ice when she saw the dark contacting the branches, igniting them, orange sparks, but there was no fire - instead, the branches simply... disintegrated, vanishing bit by bit along their entire lengths. In seconds the entire tree was gone. It wasn't like anything she'd seen before in her life, and it fascinated her, slowing to a stop, watching the other trees disintegrate as well. It was oddly beautiful, in a way, watching something turn into nothing like that. No weapon in the Milky Way had this sort of effect.

She wondered what it would feel like, having that darkness creep up her arm, watching flesh and bone vanish under that shadow. She wondered if it would be painful.

"Vet! Come on!" Jon tugged at her arm. She shook her head and chased after Jon, dispelling the thoughts she had.

Another door ahead, the archway towering over them. Sara didn't recognize the path S.A.M. had taken them on - but then again, they weren't exactly paying attention to direction, coming in. For all she knew, they might have been retracing their steps exactly, but that didn't really matter right now. She stumbled a little, her chest heaving, lungs burning, breaths hot and ragged. She didn't know how much more she could take before her muscles gave out, and from the way she felt, she had a hunch it was going to be only a few more moments.

She waved her hand in front of the Remnant interface. To her relief, the doors began to part.

 _ **Pathfinder, the entrance hall is just ahead. Escape would be wise.**_

Sara was too out of breath to come up with a witty rejoinder. "I... _huh, huh_... know, Sam," she managed.

"Hey, isn't this that connecting hall we - _cough_ \- came through? The one with the weird door?" yelled Jon, pointing. He released a breath explosively, inhaling deeply. He was right - that huge portal loomed before them, and before it, a console, pointed in their direction. The one that S.A.M. retrieved a phrase from.

"The entrance hall is right beyond that thing! Let's go, we're almost there! PeeBee, where are you?"

The asari materialized out of a side passage, hopping along on a foot as she tried to maintain her balance from her abrupt slow-down out of the passage. She spun, pistol in hand, and fired off a shot. An angry whine told Jon that bots were behind her - he unfolded his Raptor and added to the asari's fire, downing the two Observers that came chasing after them.

PeeBee took one look at the dark coming up behind them, and ran, her eyes wide. "Ahh, it's right on our heels!"

Sara redoubled her efforts, passing the console, already reaching a hand out, remembering that this portal didn't have an interface, merely opening at her approach -

\- and collided painfully with the black stone. She did try to stop at the last minute, but the impact knocked the breath out of her. Her shoulder ached from the strike as she got unsteadily to her feet.

"Why isn't it opening?!" Vetra tugged at a crack in the portal, looking up at it, an impossible height. She slapped it with a hand - the sound of her palm smacking the stone didn't even reach her. Impregnable. Red lines ran along its height, pulsing. PeeBee squatted and tried to fit her fingers under the portal, looking for purchase.

Nothing.

Sara tried it again, raising her hand to the portal. It stayed silent, glowing red. "Sam?" she asked uncertainly.

Jon aimed at... whatever that dark was. It was gaining on them, barreling down the passageway, and the fucking door was locked? "Vetra, any side passages you can see?" he called out, trying to keep calm, just barely. Now that they knew the dark was killing everything in its path, he'd rather they be somewhere else. He'd seen how it disintegrated that tree back there, and was reminded of those old horror movies Ches used to love to watch, old-Earth planes suffering malfunctions in mid-air, the passengers screaming as they burned alive. Even now, years later, it made his skin crawl to remember that scene, fictional as it was, and it sickened him when he made it into the Alliance only to find that it was actually an accurate portrayal for a movie...

"Nothing! Spirits," she muttered, pulling with all her might. The portal refused to budge.

Ten seconds, and it'll be on them. Jon whipped his head around. The door was locked. No way out. He imagined the dark eating him alive, his fingers going first, the scream dying in his chest as it overtook him. There would be nothing left of him, nothing left of them, the Initiative already in shambles as it was, the Pathfinder's team a failure even before their first mission was complete...

He wasn't a quitter. But this was worse than being surrounded by slavers and pirates on all sides, supplies dwindling rapidly as he dragged wounded Alliance personnel to safety, expending thousands of rounds, firing till weapon mechanisms melted from the heat, and yet the enemy kept coming. Back then, he had the hope that reinforcements were due any moment, fresh faces and weaponry coming in for the big rescue, chasing off the enemy with a barrage of superior firepower in comparison to the meager rifle-fire their outpost was putting out.

But this...

They were in an alien structure, with barely any knowledge of how their tech worked. The only way out was sealed. An alien darkness coming towards them, a wall of death that disintegrated everything in its path. They were trapped, and unless any of them could somehow phase through walls, it was a no-win scenario. He fired a round or two into the dark - for all the good it did. It was like throwing pebbles at a tsunami, right before the tsunami came crashing down on him.

Jon let his weapon fall to his side. Vetra had stopped trying to prize the door open, looking at the oncoming blackness like he was. PeeBee was muttering, still trying to move tons of rock with her fingers, grunting and straining.

"No good," he shook his head at Vetra. "We're trapped."

She nodded sadly, closing her eyes. Jon wondered if there was time to say something to Sara, before they both enter the void. Things had been going sideways since they'd arrived, and his luck - little as it was - appeared to have run out. Falling out the sky on Habitat Seven, surviving the ferocious gunfight up to the atmo processor alongside the legendary Alec Ryder, dealing with that rogue Security officer who wanted the entire Nexus dead, braving the radiation-soaked surface of Eos, surviving yet another firefight alongside his new Pathfinder and an old friend...

"Sara..." he began.

Whipped his head around. She wasn't next to him anymore, sprinting towards the dark. _What the -_

No, not towards the encroaching black. She was running for the console. Something she could interface with.

A tiny spark of hope flashed into existence in Jon's chest, pushing back at the hopelessness he felt. _Could it help?_ He dropped the Raptor and ran after Sara, who'd splayed her hand on the keys.

* * *

Sara concentrated. Hard. She poured all her frustration, all her desire into the connection she felt, the very same connection that had filled her with wonder, an out-of-body experience. She told - no, she _ordered_ the Remnant machinery to _halt_. S.A.M. was translating the code, to her, from her, and she felt a prick of something oddly familiar in her consciousness. _Sam?_

 _ **I have almost bypassed the vault's systems, Sara. Stand by.**_

Sara opened her eyes. The darkness was barely a meter away from her, swallowing the walls, the ceiling. She stared into that dark, the same feeling she had staring out into the star-studded Andromeda Galaxy, back on the Tempest, right after leaving the Nexus. _Was it only yesterday?_ It felt like a lifetime ago. This time, though, she hardened her heart, as if the dark was a monster she could face down. It was easier than facing space again, a mind-boggling, endless expanse that threatened to obliterate all that she was by its sheer size.

She couldn't see; the dark erased any sense of distance and space. Sara pressed down on the keys, feeling an invisible _something_ push back against her. She could feel Jon's presence next to her, facing down the dark alongside her, a blob of white in the black. A surge of gratitude filled her, warming her up from the inside, the buzzing in her head fading into the background as she turned her head to look at him, at his brown eyes.

They waited for the dark to claim them.

Puzzlement in Jon's eyes. He broke their shared gaze, looking up. She did likewise.

The dark was gone. The smooth, black rock stretched before them, blue-green lines twinkling innocently. No sign that the black was there whatsoever, no residue, no lingering tendrils, nothing. Sara slowly lifted her hand off the console, light-headed. She blinked a few times, just to make sure her eyes weren't deceiving her. "What... just happened?"

" _Vault restart is now complete,_ " said S.A.M. " _Compiling information._ "

"Phew!" exclaimed PeeBee, coming up to them. "That was... wow. Talk about a rush!"

Jon inhaled deeply, tamping down the despair he felt, the adrenaline rush ebbing. He looked at Sara and said in a low voice, "That was way too close. We have to be more careful."

She swallowed, her mouth dry, and nodded. "Yeah, but we didn't know what was going to happen, right? I was expecting... I dunno, machinery starting up or something, not a black, inky, killing... thing."

"Oh, blah blah blah. We outran a disintegration field, didn't we?" PeeBee beamed at them. "You want to focus on that? Or the cool vault you've just activated?"

Annoyance rose in Jon, a snake. How could this asari be so callous, so dismissive of the dangers they'd faced? He bit back a retort, retrieving his Raptor, watching her out the corner of his eye. At least Sara was safe, and that was all that mattered. That mellowed his mood somewhat as he rejoined the Pathfinder at the console.

" _Atmosphere processors are online. Recovering last console activity._ "

A yellow sphere, roughly the size of an old-Earth baseball, rose from the console, hovering slightly at head height. As they watched, it pulsed once, motes of yellow light shooting out from the sphere, coming to a halt at various points around them. Jon watched as a mote approached him, sinking into his chestpiece. He didn't feel anything, turning to watch the same mote of light now moving away from him, making its way leisurely to about a meter and a half away from him before coming to rest, winking. _A hologram?_

More lights joined the first wave, these ones blue, dotting the space around them like... _stars_ , Sara slowly realized as she turned in place, taking in the new spectacle unfolding in front of them. The first wave of yellow lights pulsed, each now encased in a translucent, faint yellow bubble, like an atmosphere around a planet. More and more lights emerged, arranging themselves, dancing around the four of them, following a pattern that was unidentifiable to their eyes, until they were standing in a whole field of colored lights, hovering, winking.

Vetra held a hand up and touched a small cluster of lights by her face. Her fingers passed through them - or they passed through her fingers, she couldn't tell. They stayed in place, no reaction to her flesh-and-blood and gauntleted hand. It felt ethereal, unreal as if she was in a different plane of existence.

"Spirits, they're... beautiful," she breathed, looking around her. "What's... all this?"

Jon blinked. Those Remnant, at it again. If he'd found their caverns and chambers beautiful before, all those straight edges and blue lines carved out of solid black rock, the freaking _city_ earlier, too complex to comprehend, this trumped whatever he'd seen, big time. There was something familiar, comforting, about these lights they found themselves walking amongst, like a Citadel holographic decorator, or a...

 _A holographic star map?_

"Heeeeey, waitwaitwait. Hold up. This looks..." PeeBee's brow creased, holding a hand up and turning on the spot. "This... the Heleus Cluster? This is a star map!"

" _PeeBee is correct, Pathfinder,_ " confirmed S.A.M. " _Applying current Nexus information on the Cluster. Displaying them on your HUD._ "

Small lines of text appeared over some of the lights. Names, planetary information. Sara approached the console, head craned, looking at the baseball-sized sphere, looking at it in wonder as an info pane unfolded beside it, on her faceplate. She pointed. "Here we are," she mused. "Eos."

"Center stage, since it's the planet we're on," added Vetra. "It's kinda funny. Want a star map? Go through a vault, almost get killed! Now here you go, brave explorer, a reward, a map to the rest of the..." she trailed off as the realization hit her. She turned to look at a cluster of lights to her left, eyes widening. "Hey, that's... H-047c! Habitat Five! The golden world for the turians! Pathfinder," she turned excitedly to Sara. "These maps are far more complete than anything we have on the Nexus!"

Giddiness as Sara tried to process that. "Woah. Really?"

Jon counted, a little difficult with the three-dimensional factor, but he tagged each on his faceplate with a flag. Those first-wave lights, now enlarged slightly, each with their own atmospheres, amounted to... more than seven. Ten. Twelve. Fourteen? His heart leapt into his throat as he pondered the implications of that train of thought.

"Hey, Sara? If that's us, Eos," he pointed at the central sphere, then moved his finger to the lights he'd been counting. "All these points? They might just be other worlds out there. Possibly golden worlds. And maybe..." he frowned. "Since they're showing up here, on this Remnant system... could it mean that..."

PeeBee connected the dots, arriving at the same conclusion as he did. "These planets have vaults. Dormant, like this one?" Her eyes were wide, lips parted slightly. "But... why? Why is there a whole network of them? What's all this for?" She waved her hands at the map around them.

The possibilities. Sara's mind reeled at the revelations her teammates were giving her. Other worlds, other golden worlds, beyond the seven they'd found through the long-range scopes? And each of them with a vault of their own, that could manipulate weather and do God-knows what else?

"Creating Observers out of nothing? Ravaging a whole planet? And that's just what we've seen," Sara mumbled. "Bots, living plants, atmospheric processors..."

"Well, unless the builders show up to explain themselves, all we've got is guesswork," said Vetra, shrugging.

"I don't think whoever built these structures meant to destroy planets," said Jon, slowly. "I mean, you can just hit them from orbit. Why go to such elaborate lengths?" he squatted, rapping a knuckle on his faceplate, thinking. He looked up after a while, feeling a little disconcerted at finding three pairs of eyes locked on him, Sara's blue ones particularly intrigued.

"Sara, what if that atmospheric processor back on Habitat Seven had been malfunctioning? What if this whole Remnant system, as PeeBee said, was supposed to... I dunno, keep the planets going? Maintain their temperatures, humidity, whatever?"

"I once did supply runs for a Council team that was seeding some ice planet's atmosphere, trying to melt the ice caps," ventured Vetra.

"To help it... support life!" Sara's eyes widened. "Is that what these builders were trying to do? Make worlds habitable? Or even terraform a whole cluster?"

"Hey! Look at this one!" PeeBee pointed at one of the first-wave lights. This one was a little different from the others - it was pulsing persistently and rapidly, in contrast to the other lights, slow like a heartbeat when a person was relaxed. "It's different. Maybe it's active?" She turned to Sara, hopping in excitement. "Pathfinder, we've got to go see!"

"Sam?"

" _Extrapolating... these coordinates lie beyond the space we have currently surveyed, Pathfinder._ "

"Understood. Mark everything we've found, S.A.M. Notify the Nexus of our findings."

Sara breathed in deeply, hands on her hips. She looked over at Jon, Vetra, and a visibly-excited PeeBee. They've made so much progress in such a short time, more than what the Nexus had done in a standard year, and she could feel it in her bones, the fatigue, the effort needed to process all the things they've just found out, imaginations running wild in spite of themselves. Hope was a drug, and they were all hooked onto it, to give the Nexus a chance at survival. To give them all a chance at survival, in this brand-new galaxy.

But right now, Sara wanted out of this vault. Her muscles were aching, and she was hungry and thirsty, something Jon and Vetra probably were feeling, too, judging from their pained expressions. Her chest ached from where she'd struck Jon, a sharp pain when she poked a finger at the underarmor there. Definitely a rib.

"Come on, guys," she said wearily, the adrenaline rush gone, wincing at the pain. "Let's head for the surface. I could use some fresh air."

* * *

Tangerine-gold sky, clear of clouds. The shadows were lengthening across the sand as they emerged from the vault's entrance, the star setting. One very obvious change they could notice was the lack of greenish tinge in the air - Sara could see the actual color of the mountains in the distance, chocolate-brown. It was as if the world had changed while they were down below - Sara snorted, amused. It _had_ , thanks to her and S.A.M. The atmospheric processors must have gone right to work, clearing the air, clearing the sky. Her omnitool told her that radiation levels were dropping rapidly, already below fatal doses, but a predictive analysis done by S.A.M. estimated it would take about two weeks to clear completely.

"Look at that," she breathed, feet sinking into the sand, looking skyward.

"How?" PeeBee stared in wonder. "No atmosphere processor works _that_ fast!"

" _If this effect is representative, Pathfinder, air and moisture patterns will show noticeable improvements over the next few weeks. Eos could support an outpost._ "

Sara sank to a knee, scooping up a handful of sand. "Finally. A foothold. That's all we need - just enough to begin." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Thank God. Dad, hope you're seeing this."

"Our comms are back online," noted Vetra, already on her omnitool. "Can't wait to break the news to the Nexus. We've got teams itching to set up shop."

Jon looked up at the pink-orange sky, the tension seeping away, his shoulders sagging. They've done it. It seemed impossible hours ago, but they've done it. It would take two weeks for the planet to be able to properly support life, but like Sara said, a foothold was all they needed to begin again.

Sara got to her feet, looking back at the Remnant structure. "This Remnant technology - Remtech?" She glanced at PeeBee, who nodded at her approvingly. "This could be the key to our survival, if we can control it."

"We've got a lead," reminded the asari. "That site is active, whatever it is. Who knows what we'll find there?" She bounced on the balls of her heels, digging into her pouch. "More of these?" She held up the object they found in the vault, by the locked-out gravity well. "Still don't know what this is. With more research, I bet we can not only find out, but also make it work for us!" She grinned.

"Wait... you're coming along with us?" asked Sara.

The asari pouted. "Course! I wanna know what makes the Remnant tick. You've got a key to their tech - or a crowbar, at least. That's more than what I have."

"And I need someone with firsthand knowledge of the Remnant. So..." Sara straightened and held a hand out. "Welcome aboard, PeeBee. We'll get you a fancy job title to go over your bunk."

The asari shook Sara's hand vigorously. If she got any more excited, Jon mused, she would be bouncing all over the surface of Eos like a beach ball.

"I only need a footlocker, Pathfinder! Datapad, toothbrush, clean underwear. That'll do!"


	24. Prodromos

A dull pain in her right side, Sara groaned and sat up slowly, feeling the gelpad on her abdomen crinkle as her skin folded. Her legs weren't feeling too hot either, aching like crazy. She almost didn't want to move them, they felt like lead. And it was so comfy, this bed of hers, falling asleep almost immediately as soon as her head hit the pillow...

 _ **I trust you've slept well, Sara?**_

"Like a log, Sam," she replied, sighing, standing and wincing at the twinges in her legs. She stretched, feeling the muscles in her back beginning to protest as well. "Ow. Now I know what it feels like to be a hunk of tenderized meat."

 _ **Dr. T'Perro has recommended minimal physical exertion for today, to allow your muscles to recover, and for your rib to heal properly.**_

"Most... definitely," Sara moaned as she touched the gelpad gingerly, eliciting a stab of pain. She hissed. "That'sssssss... _argh_ , one hell of a run." She fluffed up her pillow, grabbing handfuls of bedsheets, making the bed as she was trained to, back in the marines. It's a little difficult, though, when you have a healing broken rib, moving slowly, and the bed was an actual bed, not a standard-regulation Alliance bunk bed.

 _ **Indeed. While your father, Alec Ryder, had undergone similar rigorous exercise regimens while training for the Initiative, he had more muscle mass and stamina than you currently have. He also had a breathing technique which greatly enhanced his ability to maintain longer periods of exercise.**_

A pause. _**It is interesting to be renewed.**_

The mention of her father stilled Sara, sheets bunching up in her fists. Now that things have slowed down a little, she allowed herself to think, to reminisce. _Dad_. She knew little about him, despite him being, well, her father. This little nugget of information from S.A.M. jogged her memory a little: _Dad jogging around the lake of their countryside home on Earth, the Sierra Nevadas in the distance. She remembered being awed by the fact Dad could keep his pace up, round after round, even as she watched, even as the sun slid slowly towards the horizon, remembered holding up an ice-cold beer for him as he was wiping his face, breathing heavily, her small hand unable to go around the bottle completely. Dad patted her head, chuckling, then hoisted her onto his shoulders, taking her around the lake._

Sara shook her head, the dry air she felt on her face, the bottle's condensation on her fingers, disappearing. She was back in her quarters on the Tempest, feeling the grief jag in her chest.

"What... do you mean?"

The A.I.'s holographic avatar popped up on her desk as she approached it, a swirling blue mass, a miniature version of the one in S.A.M. Node back on the Hyperion.

 _ **Since my creation, I have been Alec Ryder's S.A.M. Now, I am**_ **your** _ **S.A.M. I am still myself, but now the input and experiences I have are completely new. I will develop in a new direction. The term 'reincarnation' seems appropriate here.**_

"We're _that_ different?"

 _ **You and Alec are unique individuals. I am beginning to see the variations that defined your father, that define you, though it will be some time before I can truly understand your psyche, as per my experiences with Alec. I look forward to our continued partnership.**_

Sara swiped through her terminal, noting the backlog of messages she had to look through. _After breakfast_ , she told herself, falling into the couch, reaching for the cup of... _something_ she'd left there the night before. Took a sip - water.

Quiet for a moment as Sara sifted through the events of the past few days, wetting her mouth with sips of water, before something occurred to her. If S.A.M. had been watching her through Dad's eyes since they began training for the Initiative...

"Hey, Sam? What's Dad's take on me and Scott?"

No moment of hesitation to find the words to say, unlike so many others who carefully chose their words. _**He believed your family trials brought you closer together, and hoped that would endure. It appears that hope was well-founded.**_

Sara lifted her face to the ceiling. " _Family trials_ , huh? You mean Mom."

 _ **Ellen Ryder, amongst many other things, Sara.**_

"Well, tell Scott about that hope you mentioned. He would certainly disagree."

 _ **Noted. He appeared to be a more distant to Alec than you were, Sara.**_

Sara sighed and pushed herself up. "True. Scott got posted to Relay 202, near Arcturus Station. Barely anything to do, but made his way up to lance corporal. Then Dad got dishonorably discharged and us soon after, though they kept it quiet. Scott didn't take it well," Sara recalled that day when her twin came storming in, eyes blazing, demanding to see Dad, one the only few times she saw Scott truly angered at something.

"He and Dad nearly came to blows; he demanded that either he was in the Pathfinder team, or he would refuse to join the Initiative altogether. I wasn't happy about being booted out the marines, too, but I guess I saw it coming. Scott didn't."

 _ **Alec received his dishonorable discharge because of my creation. I did not expect that his actions would lead to the end of your career, and Scott's as well. I apologize, Sara.**_

"Don't be, Sam," Sara waved a hand, dismissing the apology, though her heart was still heavy. "It's six hundred years in the past now. We need to look forward. It's a different set of circumstances we're in, and you're helping us find the way."

 _ **Understood.**_

She had no idea why she'd just told S.A.M. all that. He was a freaking A.I., surely he knew everything associated with the Initiative, everything about Dad, including about her, Scott, Mom. Maybe it was because she didn't have anyone to speak candidly about things like that, even back on Earth and Mars... Cora came closest, but they didn't share the same camaraderie Sara had with her ex-squadmates, Cass especially, even if Cora had a good eye at picking out the hunky guys within the candidates...

She set the cup back on the coffee table glumly, wondering if the only person she could confide in in this new galaxy, someone to whom she could speak her mind frankly, was an A.I. in her head.

What a laugh.

" _Pathfinder Ryder? We've begun analysis of Eos' atmosphere. I'm happy to report that the Scourge have somehow... disappeared._ "

Sara groaned, though she was secretly glad for the distraction from her gloomy thoughts. "Time to pathfind my way through the paperwork. Great."

 _ **I have prepared a draft of the report to be sent to the Nexus while you were asleep, Sara. You can make changes to it at your leisure before forwarding it to Director Tann. He has scheduled a vidcon with you in an hour's time.**_

"Greaaaaaaat."

* * *

"At this point, I would probably lecture you on your recklessness."

"At this point, I would probably hang my head and pretend to listen. As always."

Lexi swatted him on the arm. "Watch it, Jonathan. I don't just take pain away, I know how to inflict pain, too, you know."

Jon hopped off the bed, the skin on his torso where Lexi had applied medigel already shiny and numb to the touch. He reached for one of the spots with a finger, only for Lexi's iron grip on his wrist to deter him. "You know better than to do that."

He sighed. "Yes, Lexi. Okay, I get it, now let go."

He pulled his shirt on as Lexi went over to the other bed. The lieutenant was stirring feebly, but otherwise she looked okay. "How's she doing?"

"Stable. Once she wakes up, she'll need proper food," said Lexi.

"Sara?"

"Broken rib. One of the reasons why I should be giving you a lecture. But then again," the asari's features softened. "I've reviewed the footage and scans from your suit. Everything you've done, the risks you took, all calculated?"

He nodded. "Sara's broken rib? Either that, or we both fall into that chasm."

"No argument there. Alec trained you well," Lexi rose, laying a hand on his arm. "Good job, Jonathan. A first step towards home, here."

He lowered his face. "It was a group effort, Lexi. I just made sure Sara can do her job."

"And you did yours. Alec would be proud of you. Now, go, get some rest. That was a lot of sprinting you did."

* * *

"That's some intense shit, right there."

Gil froze the footage, pointing. "That thing? I swear, nanotech. It's not a gas, a cloud, or something weird like the Scourge. It's something _weirder_. And how it killed that tree?" Gil rewound the footage. "I've seen this only once before, when they were testing those ODSY drives on Luna. Some poor cat. Sauntered right into the room before they sealed it, only fine ash left."

Vetra made a pained noise. "Oh. Poor kitty."

"Anyway, you guys made it out alive, and that's what matters. I've heard that the... _vault_ thing is now clearing the radiation?"

"As we speak," confirmed Vetra, nodding. "It'll take a while, though, for it to clear up completely."

"Still can't believe it, though. I mean, the Pathfinder just turned on some planetwide machinery that we barely understand. That's..."

"Some intense shit, right there?"

Gil grinned. "After my heart, you."

* * *

" _Pathfinder._ "

"Director Tann."

" _I've heard some whispers here on the Nexus. I'd prefer in the future, you'd brief me_ first _before disseminating information to the general public?_ "

Sara took a deep breath.

" _Look, Ryder, not that I'm picking on what you've done, but throwing bits of information out there to anyone with a receiver, they could distort the facts, spreading false information through the entire Nexus! We've already had an uprising, and we do not need another based off fictionalized accounts of events!_ "

"I... understand, Director. My apologies." He had a point there. And she neglected to warn Vetra about contacting people she knew on the Nexus... and Suvi too, with the Nexus science team.

Tann frowned. " _In any case, I've quashed the rumors for now, telling the people that an official declaration will be made in a few hours, less if we can finish up quickly. So, Pathfinder, what did you find on Eos? What did you_ do _on Eos?_ "

His tone had become more formal, businesslike. Sara could only assume that from that point on, Tann had some sort of recording device switched on, maybe even a live broadcast to the Nexus holoscreens. She smiled grimly, glad that she was presentable for the vidcon, took a sip of water, and begun speaking, hands on the table in front of her. She was awkward, jerky at first, but as she continued, the events unfolding in her mind's eye, the words flowed like water.

Tann held a hand up to interrupt her.

* * *

"So... what are we doing here again?" asked Vetra.

Two days of rest. Jon felt much better, the aches mostly faded, and he got some down time to tinker with his gear. He detached a small disk from his belt and threw it in the air, where it stayed, hovering. Vetra watched the disk with interest as Jon synced it to his omnitool, tapping at a few options. It zipped around for a bit, a quiet whine, before falling into the sand with an anticlimatic _plop_. Jon scooped it up and chuckled quietly. "Nuts. Needs more work."

"Well, Tann wants us to find a spot where we can establish an outpost," said Sara, looking around, her helmet under her arm. She inhaled, taking in the air of Eos for the first time. It was warm and smelled of rocks and sand. According to S.A.M., that was the first thing the processors cleaned up, the air, increasing oxygen levels and eliminating impurities with an efficiency that no Milky Way tech could replicate. It was safe for them to walk about the surface without their helmets on now, and Sara was privately glad for that. Wearing a helmet around all the time can get a little uncomfortable after a while.

Jon held a finger up. "Why not just reestablish Promise? The site's already up, all we need is personnel and -"

"Tann says a fresh start," said Sara curtly, walking a short distance away, looking out at the vast plain of sand. Kallo had landed the Tempest in the middle of the plains, something they couldn't do previously thanks to the radiation, which was now barely registering on their scans, very mild background. It was a different story with caves and crevices in the ground, though, but they weren't going exploring those places today, so it didn't really matter.

Jon glanced at Vetra, who shrugged. Sara seemed a little tense these past two days, walking briskly to the Tempest's bridge and to the conference room, occupied with her thoughts. He didn't even see her in the galley for meals, and assumed she must have been taking them in her room, working on reports as she ate. _The role of a Pathfinder_ , he mused. _Fifty percent running-gunning-exploring, and fifty percent bureaucratic shit_.

"Sure, no problem," Jon said, stepping into the shade of a large rock so he could see his omnitool better. He expanded the panes, checking the satellite scans. "Dr. Anwar? Are there any large patches of ground that could support a Class-II outpost?"

"Make that a Class-I," corrected Lieutenant Harper, pointing at something on one of Jon's panes. "Those kett could still be out there - we need more military-trained personnel. And you've seen what happened at Promise."

"What's the difference?" asked Sara, her eyes a question, flicking between him and the lieutenant. Cora was finally well enough to join them, though Lexi made absolutely certain that Cora had eaten a huge meal - in front of her - before releasing her from her care.

"Well..." Jon expanded the holo so all of them could see, hovering in between the four of them. "There are several classes of schematics to choose from, the most basic of which are Classes I and II. Promise and Resilience were both Class II, scientific outposts. Class I is a military outpost."

"Which should tell you about how effective both were in repelling an enemy force," noted Cora. "No defensive walls, a single arms locker in the main hall, not even defensive turrets. Scientists and support personnel, only the most basic weapons training."

"While I agree with the Lieutenant's logic," Jon glanced over at her, "The Initiative's about exploration and discovery. We aren't an invasion force. The kett might take us setting up a military base the wrong way. Many on the Nexus might have a word about that, too."

"Heavier firepower to drive them off," persisted Cora, looking at Sara. "Fewer casualties in the future. Once the kett sees we mean business, they'll leave us alone, and we can set up as many science outposts as we want. Research is no good to us if we're dead."

"Well, I believe that decision is up to the Pathfinder," chimed in Vetra, gesturing at Sara.

"Noted, Nyx. Just trying to help her make up her mind, in the best interests of the people," said Lieutenant Harper.

Jon looked over at Sara. "Either way, I'll go with whatever you choose, Sara." His neutral tone belied the troubled look on his face. On one hand, the missions of the Initiative were clear to all of them; Garson's vision had been broadcast every single day within Initiative recruitment centers and training facilities, Jon could recite them by heart. On the other, the lieutenant's logic was sound. They've seen what the kett could do to Promise, and the four of them were hard-pressed to defeat the investigating kett squad, especially that big brute of a bullet sponge...

"Sam, the Nexus doesn't get a say in this?" asked Sara.

" _Resources are at a crisis point. Protocol states this judgment call falls to the Pathfinder._ "

"I'm choosing this outpost's direction for decades. Maybe... centuries," mumbled Sara, feeling the weight of the responsibility upon her. She could understand Jon's and Cora's arguments, each with their own merits, neither better over the other.

" _That is the prime responsibility of a Pathfinder,_ " intoned S.A.M. " _Be advised that the first outpost placed by a Pathfinder will be a statement in itself. Fair or not, your choice will represent the Initiative and its intentions in Andromeda._ "

In her head, _**I would suggest that you consider this choice carefully, Sara**_.

Sara inhaled deeply, casting her gaze to the scudding clouds above. She's literally determining the Initiative's future here.

She remembered shaking hands with Jien Garson, during one of Dad's many meetings with her. A woman of passion, of focus, wanting to go where no one had ever gone before, pushing the boundaries, expanding the frontier. Sara remembered being awed by her fierce determination, being drawn into the woman, believing in the mission. She was the catalyst that drove Sara to officially sign up with the Initiative after days of agonizing and persistent pushes from Dad.

She also remembered that one science team they failed to rescue in time, one of Silva's student groups, most of them about her age, caught off-guard by a marauder squad who were attracted by the expensive equipment the students were using, fifty kilometers away from the main group. As her marine squad rushed there in Makos, they heard, over the comm, the students holding their own for a while, grabbing the few guns they had to defend themselves, ominous silence after ten minutes, dead air, after gunfire and snarls and terrified screaming.

Military, or science?

* * *

They found a site about five hundred kilometers away, in a place Suvi had dubbed Fairwind Basin. Apparently, according to the scans, the basin had the least radiation after Promise and Resilience, thanks to the cliffs that made up the walls of the basin. And also, because wind speeds were within acceptable parameters there.

"Can't go around doing science if you were getting thrown about by hurricane-force winds now, can you?" she'd added. "And think of the crops! Poor buggers getting blown about."

Jon looked about the site, his helmet on so he could draw up a rough representation of the outpost on his faceplate. This was something he knew, establishing outposts, very similar to setting up prefab homes in the Verge. There was little sand here, mostly hardpacked dirt. Perfect for crop-growing, or so he assumed - it's up to the botanists to find out. And there was a small pool of water, too, near the west side.

He swiped and clawed, looking comical to anyone who didn't know what he was doing at the moment, pawing at thin air. On his faceplate, though, translucent representations of various buildings rotated and clicked into place, a virtual white grid across the expanse of ground. He didn't even notice the world around him as he walked around the perimeter, carefully adjusting buildings, Suvi's wind directions superimposed over his HUD now. _The filtration plant goes here, trailing pipes to the pool... yes. Outpost central? Here, middle of everything, like a town hall. Maybe this lab should face that way..._

"How does this look?" he called out, shooting the schematic he'd made into the comm net. Lieutenant Harper was first to appraise it, quiet, her face unreadable behind her faceplate. Jon could tell that she wasn't thrilled that Sara had chosen to make it a science outpost, but she went along with the decision without complaint.

Vetra appeared nonchalant about the decision, but he could tell she was glad, the food situation on her mind - she'd told him about it during his downtime, shown him the calculations. It looked grim. Researchers here could probably assist the botanists, maybe double their food output, through whatever methods they could cook up.

Dr. Anwar had begun making research plans immediately, prepping the data packets she'd collated from Promise, waiting to hand them over to the teams that were coming in, attaching her own notes and files, humming over the comm.

Kallo outlined flight paths and entry points through Eos' atmosphere, a guide for incoming pilots, and coordinated with Jon to figure out the size of the landing zone for the outpost. He eventually settled on a choice, Jon marking it out on his design.

Gil prepped the Tempest's mineral probes, ready to sync them to the outpost's main computer, once it was set up. They needed resources to maintain operations, and to bolster the already-meager supplies the Nexus had.

Jon could feel it in the air, the excitement. Director Tann had made an official announcement two days back, and right now, the outpost block was inbound in dropships and shuttles, E.T.A. thirty minutes, standard time. He felt a smile grow on his face as he looked at Vetra, who punched him lightly in the shoulder, feeling the same rush as he did.

"Looks solid, Walker. Great schematic," said Lieutenant Harper, nodding in approval.

"Woah. You've just designed the blueprint for the outpost, Jon! That's pretty detailed!" exclaimed Sara.

"It's down to the outpost team, their call, really. I'm just giving them a rough design," protested Jon, though he was smiling like an idiot.

To kill time, they helped place markers around the site, corresponding to Jon's outpost design. Vetra was tugging at a marker she'd placed in a wrong spot, trying to pull it out the ground, when the transmission they've all been waiting for came through, making them jump as though each of them had been electrocuted.

" _Hailing Pathfinder team on Eos, Pathfinder team on Eos. This is Outpost Block Flight Zero-One out of the Nexus, on final approach to Eos._ "

Sara grinned and switched to the pilot's channel, the others crowding around her. "Pathfinder Ryder acknowledges, Flight Zero-One. Eos is ready for deployment!"

" _Copy, Pathfinder. We're ready as hell!_ "

" _Flight Zero-One, this is Pathfinder Team Pilot Kallo Jath monitoring your entry. Halve your current speed and follow Flight Path Two. Maintain altitude for two minutes..._ "

* * *

The two dropships eased onto the sand with a gentle bump, the six shuttles accompanying it landing a little further out in a semicircle around the dropships. From a thunderous whine, the collective din of several starship engines firing in close proximity, to a sudden quiet as they powered down, a hatch sliding open in the dropship's belly.

Jon's smile faltered as Foster Addison clambered out of the dropship, blinking, a hand coming up to block out the bright Eosian starlight. Then he remembered that she was the Director of Colonial Affairs - establishing this outpost was perfectly under her purview; that's why she was here, too. He sighed, hoping that Sara wouldn't have to endure more red tape. The other colonists were exiting their shuttles, looking around them at the sand, at the sky, marveling, some already surveying the site, toting tool rigs around their torsos, ready to set up the prefabs that were stored away in the dropships in quickbuild pieces.

A second person emerged from the dropship, his smooth, shaven head positively reflecting the star's light, shiny. Dark-skinned, tall, clad in a blue colonist's jumpsuit, he only needed a second to get his bearings before striding in their direction, albeit with a slight limp, favoring his right leg.

A limp that Jon was familiar with.

Sara stood, her helmet under her arm. She groaned internally as Addison made a beeline right for her, and prayed that the Director had gotten over her poetry phase, rearranging her face into a welcoming smile as Addison reached her. To her surprise, Addison merely nodded at her - "Pathfinder." - and stood aside, allowing the dark-skinned man following her to come up to Sara, his huge hand outstretched, towering a head above her.

"Good to meet you in person, Pathfinder Ryder." The man's grip was strong, and from the set of his shoulders, the way he carried himself, Sara could tell he was ex-military. Even his speech was precise, each word enunciated clearly in a deep, melodic voice. Days-old stubble peppered his chin and cheeks, his eyes kindly, with a hint of something Sara could interpret as determination, or strength, or a combination of the two, a steely determination.

She had a good feeling about this man, and returned the firm handshake. "Likewise."

"August Bradley. Operational head of this block. 'Mayor' now, I suppose." The man turned to face the Pathfinder team, his eyes falling immediately on Jon. "Ah, so I see you've snagged an engineer of mine! No wonder that outpost schematic looked familiar!"

Jon drew himself to attention and saluted smartly, his fingers up to his brow, smiling genuinely, happy to see another familiar face. "Major Bradley. Been a while, sir."

"Good to see you too, Specialist," Bradley returned the smile and the salute. "Excellent placement of buildings. We're going with your design, plus or minus some minor changes."

"Thank you, sir." Jon tried to avert his gaze, but it was clear to Sara that he was red-faced from the compliment.

Bradley turned to look at the patch of ground where the markers were set, his team already removing prefab pieces from the dropships. "It's good to be back on solid ground again. And the air's breathable," Bradley inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. "Ah. Much better than what I've imagined." He turned back to Sara, his eyes twinkling. "We're ready to make the most of what you delivered, Pathfinder. Thank you for the chance you've given us all."

Sara nodded. "It took a lot of people to get us this far, Mayor Bradley. You'll be continuing that work."

"I hear you loud and clear, Pathfinder. We'll get right to work. Oh, right. One more thing."

Bradley held his arms out, smiling broadly. "Prodromos. That's what we're calling her," he proclaimed. "We discussed it on the way over, seems appropriate. My people are already drawing up flag designs."

"Take care of her now, Mayor."

"Will do, Pathfinder." Bradley clapped a hand on Jon's shoulder before setting off across the sand to join his team, who'd already have the skeletal framework of one building set up, surprisingly quick with their hands and tools. Sara watched them work for a moment, Bradley himself grabbing a crate from the dropship and hefting it easily over to the site.

"They're eager," voiced Addison, watching Bradley, a smile on her face. "I haven't seen 'eager' for months now." She gestured to a spot a little further away, wordlessly indicating she wanted a word with the Pathfinder.

"Vetra, Jon, go see if they need help."

The pair nodded, jogging away, but not before Jon glanced at Sara, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged and gave him a thumbs-up, though she was wondering herself what Addison had to say to her. Cora trailed behind her, keeping her own counsel, as Addison stopped in the shade of one of the shuttles, turning to face her.

The smile on Addison's face was disconcerting, to say the least. In the short span of time Sara had been on the Nexus, she'd only seen a perpetual frown on the Director's face, coming to feel like that was how she looked like even with a neutral expression. The only time Sara had seen her smiling like this was a still holo of the Director in an Initiative briefing vid, introducing recruits to the Initiative's main governing body...

"Good job, Ryder. Eos may be far from golden, but now, thanks to you, it can be a producer. A real and reasonable first step for all of us." Addison paused, admiring the huge stone arch that towered over them on the east side of the basin, jagged brown rock, the sky a vivid blue through it. She lifted a hand, made a fist with it against the sky. "They think you did the impossible, you know, back on the Nexus."

This was a very different Addison from the one Sara met days ago. She sounded... _sincere_. Like she meant the compliments that she was giving Sara at this moment. Like she had finally acknowledged Sara to be up to the task of being Pathfinder, where she'd expressed her doubt previously, pointedly too, if Sara could add. She kept her thoughts to herself, though, nodding, allowing Addison to speak.

"The Nexus." Addison sighed. "I warned them. Warned them that hoping was... _irresponsible_. And yet," Addison's hand came up, offering it to Sara, who looked at it in surprise. "I challenged you to prove me wrong. And you did."

Addison looked Sara in the eye. "Pathfinder."

There it was. The acknowledgement. And Addison said it without hesitation, without a forced tone of voice. Sara found it hard to believe that this woman, just days ago, had been giving her a hard time about being named the new Pathfinder, criticizing her, and now here she was, singing her praises.

But then again, looking back, it had been a tough time for all of them, the Initiative, and not just Sara. Everyone needed this - Eos - to work, and now that she'd given them a chance to make it work, Sara felt the desire to hold a grudge against Addison fade away, grabbing her hand in a firm handshake.

"I appreciate your caution, Director Addison. We're all on the same side here, just trying to survive."

Addison nodded and let her hand drop, gesturing to Prodromos. "As inspiring as it is, Prodromos, do you know the reality, Ryder? You've bought us some time. But one outpost, the Initiative's only one so far, on a longshot planet, won't stop us from starving. We need more."

Sara exhaled slowly through her nose; the moment of feeling that she'd finally achieved something, proven herself as a Pathfinder, the bubble popped, bringing her back to hard reality. Addison was right; Tann had briefed her on the outpost situation back on the Nexus, backed up by S.A.M.'s calculations. They needed far more than just one outpost.

"Yeah, I figured that out. Still too many people out of cryo at this moment, keeping things running on the Nexus."

"Exactly. I am intrigued by the rumors, though, beyond the facts that Tann had given us in his declaration..." Addison glanced at Sara. "I heard you've got a lead?"

"A navpoint, yeah, from the vault. It's our next priority. Hopefully it'll be another planet with a vault, like this one."

"Using that alien tech? Now, it gets complicated," mused Addison. "I'm not keen on the idea of playing around with something we can barely understand, but... well. You've made Eos viable with this vault. Go for it, Pathfinder, but be careful."

"You got it, Director."

"For now, talk to Bradley, see what Prodromos needs. Later, we'll go over the _extended_ job of Pathfinder." The Director's smile vanished instantly, the sour look that Sara was familiar with returning. "You should know: the others are ready to officially sanction your efforts. To be a part of your success."

" _Now_ everyone wants to have my back," muttered Sara, the elation she was feeling slowly dissipating as she recalled how Tann 'decided to give her a chance to prove herself'. Not exactly encouraging words for someone who had the weight of hundreds of thousands of lives on her shoulders. "Could have used that days ago."

Addison ignored that statement. "We all want the Initiative to succeed, Pathfinder. But after failing for so long, no one on the Nexus agrees on how to do it. So many setbacks, so many gut punches to our confidence, so many lives lost..." A troubled look crossed Addison's face, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

"Be aware, Pathfinder. That's all."

* * *

"So... you start off with a single building, then work outwards?"

"With a small crew, yeah. It'll be a little claustrophobic at first, sleeping in a room with everyone else, little to no privacy, but when the other buildings come up, things will be better."

"They teach you that in the Corps?"

Jon shrugged. "Amongst other things."

They managed to finish constructing a prefab building in two hours, Bradley checking weld points with his engineer, Fawkes, who double-checked everything, making sure the building wouldn't collapse under the slightest breeze. Some of the other colonists were moving essential items into the completed building, some at work at the perimeter, which intrigued Jon. He attached the last cables tothe power box and threw a thumbs-up to the colonist standing by the generator. A few minutes later, the lights came on in the building, eliciting cheers from the whole site.

Vetra jumped down from where she was insulating power lines, landing with a thump. "Never thought about that. I'd always assumed that you'd have a complete colony ready to go by nightfall, just drop the people right in."

Jon chortled. "If there was a bigger crew, and heavy machinery, then yeah. These are prefabs, Vet, and we're not in the Milky Way. They'll add on to the buildings as they go, make them more sturdy and permanent."

"What about those guys?" she jerked with her chin at those colonists that intrigued Jon earlier, now setting markers into the ground. He frowned, rubbing his chin. "Looks like they're setting up... a perimeter wall? Defenses. Hang a sec." Jon closed the box and moved over to where Bradley was, hands on his hips, watching a colonist boost himself up onto the building's roof, setting up panels for the second floor.

"Ah, Walker. How goes things in the Pathfinder team?"

"Rough start, sir. Ryder's loss was a big blow to us."

Bradley lowered his head. "Indeed. Alec was a good friend, a fine fellow N7." Bradley absently fingered the tiny N7 badge pinned to his collar as he spoke. "He'll be missed, that's for sure. But I see you're with the new Pathfinder. His daughter, right?"

Jon nodded. "She's inexperienced, but she's got her father's fire. I think she's a good Pathfinder, sir, far as I can tell."

"And she's got a combat engineer trained by two different N7s to help her. I think the odds are pretty good for us," grinned Bradley. "Found out you were in the program when Alec reached out to me after lifting you from the Nexus team."

"He didn't mention you," mumbled Jon. "He should have."

"Relax, son. You were still recovering from Akuze. I wouldn't have paid you a visit even if Alec allowed it."

"How's the leg, sir?"

"Definitely better after I retired," laughed Bradley. "Of course, I went a little stir-crazy after a few months, itching for action, so you can imagine how quickly I put the pen to paper when Alec told me about the Initiative. Minor limp, but I can still fight, if I need to."

"About that, sir..." Jon pointed. "Perimeter walls? The Pathfinder said a science outpost."

"Yeah. Made some modifications after some thought, consulted with my head of security. Resilience was smashed to all hell when the kett attacked. Waltzed right in, room-to-room fighting. Not pretty when the squad of marines outside got butchered first. Those scientists inside never stood a chance." Bradley shook his head. "You remember your lessons, right? I drilled them into you."

" _Numbers make no difference when you can't take cover,_ " recalled Jon.

"Might add some turrets later on, too. Depends on the resources we can spare."

Jon smiled. "With you as mayor, sir? I think Prodromos is in good hands. I'd wager before the week is over, you'd have all these colonists battle-ready."

Bradley nodded, not smiling, Jon's joke falling flat. "It's the new protocol, actually. Everyone, and I mean _everyone_ , has to undergo B.C.T. I was training off-duty Nexus personnel when Tann made me mayor."

"Damn, sir."

"Those kett are still a clear and present threat, Walker. We don't know how many there are, where they operate out of. And we don't have the resources and manpower to send out a recon squad, see what's what."

"We'll try to find out more about them, pass along any vital information," promised Jon. "Oh, heads up, sir? The wildlife here can be vicious. Kaerkyns, they're called. I'll have our doc send you the details."

"Much appreciated, Walker. Now, let's see if we can get that filtration plant up. We'll need clean water."

* * *

"So."

That single word, a gunshot in the silence. The salarian looked up, his face drained of blood, shivering in the cool air. "P-please. I've told you everything I know!" He scanned the room wildly, hoping for someone - anyone - who could be undercover, who'd come to his rescue. All he got were stony stares, the pair of krogan sentries by the door gazing coolly at him, no change in their facial expressions.

He raised a shaking hand to wipe the wet off his chin. Blood. They've become worse, the shakes, ever since they dragged him out of his cell. The blood was new too, and it frightened him. He hadn't been shot, or stabbed, or beaten up, or anything! Why? No one who was healthy should have blood coming out their mouth! He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, trying to figure out where the blood was coming from, an ulcer perhaps?

He couldn't find anything. He couldn't taste anything.

The three windows he was facing made it hard to see, Kadaran starlight slanting in through the slats. It hurt his eyes, the intensity of the light, and he squeezed them nearly shut, but even that wasn't enough to suppress the wave of nausea that suddenly came over him. He swayed a little, swallowing a few times, willing his stomach to stop roiling. What was wrong with him? It felt like he was sick.

Movement in his vision, the shadows before him folding and unfolding. He blinked, the multiple blurry outlines coalescing into a singular shadowy figure, backlit by the windows. He couldn't see the person's face, but from the profile and the voice, he figured it to be a human female. The woman shifted in her seat, leaning back, crossing her legs, and for the briefest of moments, light playing across her face, he knew the identity of his interrogator, and he was seized with terror, his spine stiffening, his mouth hanging open, a thin trickle of blood leaking from a corner, splattering onto the dais he was on.

He wanted to scrabble away, his mind completely taken over by instinct, knowing that his life was most certainly already forfeit, no one coming to save him. He would die alone, alone in this forsaken galaxy. Why did say yes to that damned angara? Why did he let himself be led down this slippery slope, knowing full well the risks involved? It all seemed trivial now, the problems he had, the grievances he harbored, in the face of his worst fear -

\- who smirked as she saw the effect she had on the poisoned salarian. Poor Collective fool, thinking he could sneak about right under her nose? Thinking that he was smart, that Kaetus wouldn't check the logs? It was all too easy to task one of her Outcasts to strike up a conversation with the spy, posing as a disgruntled Outcast, and slip in a little something into his drink when he wasn't watching.

He will die. Green as he was, she had no qualms about killing him. It was war, between her Outcasts and the Collective, and war knew no innocents. She knew that better than anyone here in Kadara Port, and that military mindset had helped her maintain her grip on the place.

Now that he was struck by mortal terror, she nodded at Kaetus, who stepped forward from the shadows. He knelt by the salarian, who was visibly pissing himself at this moment, shuddering. "Hey. Look at me. Hey!" Kaetus gripped the salarian's forearm and shook him. Hard. "Listen. You've been poisoned. But I have the antidote right here," Kaetus waved a small medical vial in front of the salarian's face, making sure he focused on it. "One sip, and you'll feel all better. All I want to know, is the name of the person who got you in."

For a few moments, she watched as Kaetus nodded, the salarian whispering into what passed for the turian equivalent of the ear, patting his hand, reassuring him. He nodded at Sloane at one point, before putting the vial to the salarian's lips.

The salarian died without feeling any pain, the dose of painkiller winding its way through his blood in minutes, sagging slowly against Kaetus.

The Queen of Kadara Port rose from her throne, casting a long shadow across the floor. Her sentries stood a little taller, hands tightening on their weapons, as she descended from the dais, snapping her fingers; two guards were there instantly to drag the body off to be disposed of. They wouldn't talk, of course. They knew they walked a fine line, and a millimeter off on either side meant death. Rule Number One of the Conduct, after all.

But amongst themselves, they would huddle together after their shifts, noting that despite her viciousness and ruthless attitude towards her enemies, Sloane Kelly of the Outcasts wasn't a complete monster after all. And that cemented their loyalty, the knowledge that they were working for someone who wasn't a complete psychopath, even if the way she ran things were iron-fisted. And they'll quietly pass their observations along to the lower ranks, where the inevitable first response will be to write it off as fucking nonsense, their fear justified.

But as the Queen walked amongst her people, these low-rankers, they'll see the fierce loyalty of the high-rankers to her and wonder, a seed of a doubt planted in their minds. Could that thing they heard be true? Was their leader capable of actually showing compassion? Of course, no one would have the quads to march right up to her and ask her that - Conduct Rule Number One - but to each other, to the exiles they know, they'll whisper about it, embellish it, even, which added to the overall myth that was Sloane Kelly, and the kingdom that she ruled.

The fact that no one truly knew who Sloane Kelly really was as a person, besides the carefully-cultivated image the Outcasts broadcasted for everyone to see, made her a formidable foe, difficult to predict.

The Charlatan sighed as he watched Sloane walk past, flanked by at least five guards. She was so close, he could practically reach a hand out and stick a shiv into her side. Shame about the salarian, but he was sloppy. His recruiter, though, a veteran angara that the Charlatan personally knew, will have to go underground. Or maybe he'll ask Keema to quietly 'take care' of him. Doubtless Sloane and her lackeys would have extracted the info the salarian had on the Collective before offing him.

The Charlatan bared his teeth, letting the frustration seep into the sole of his boots, throwing his drink back and feeling the burn in his throat. Sloane was getting better at this. Looks like he'll need to step in personally to oversee the next step of their operation.

* * *

" _Pathfinder?_ "

"Go ahead, Suvi."

" _I'm picking up a signal. East of here._ "

"A distress signal?"

" _I... don't think so, Pathfinder. It's just... a signal. No attached designations. Odd. It is sort of weak, though. I'll clear it up and keep you posted._ "

"Sure thing, Suvi." Sara killed the channel, angling her head Cora's way. "Worth checking out, you think?"

Cora shrugged, finishing her inspection of her shotgun and folding it away. "Beats sitting around, waiting for them to finish piecing the outpost together. Nothing I can help with, there; I'm not trained to build structures. Tear them down, maybe."

Ten minutes later, the Nomad churned its way across the sand, Prodromos a rapidly-dwindling speck in the rearview. Vetra took a long gulp of something from her personal flask, sagging in her seat. "Phew. Didn't know putting a building together entailed so much hard work!"

PeeBee, the asari, left them the ATV before they parted ways. Said that she didn't need it anymore, and that she'll meet them back at the Nexus, once she sorted some things out with her contacts there. Sara wasn't about to complain; in fact, she'd been looking forward to actually driving a Nomad in Andromeda. Gil had given it a once-over, made some minor repairs and tuned it up, whistling the whole time, before pronouncing it worthy of a Pathfinder team. Now Sara slowly curled her the fingers on her left hand -

The Nomad eased slowly to the left.

"It gets easier with time," commented Cora, seated next to Sara. "Drive for longer distances, though, watch for cramping. Had a guy suffer carpal tunnel during training."

Jon had elected to stay behind at Prodromos to help the outpost team, and to deal with threats if any arose. Sara supposed he was also eager to catch up with his old C.O., and relented, though as before, she didn't particularly like the idea of not having him around. It was an odd sensation, his reassuring presence missing, as she maneuvered the Nomad through a field of rocks, the suspension dealing with the rocky surface easily. But the outpost was severely lacking in defenses, in its building stage, the most vulnerable period of time.

Off the top of her head, Sara couldn't name anyone else capable of lending a hand to the colonists there, yet was able to leap to the site's defense at a minute's notice. The most logical choice would be Jon, but that didn't mean that she should like it...

She shook her head and concentrated on the task at hand, bringing the Nomad back on course.

" _Pathfinder, I've managed to clear up the signal. It's not Initiative. According to Nexus data, it's kett._ "

The Nomad rolled to a stop. Cora blinked. "We're riding into an ambush?"

" _Running translation algorithms. Stand by,_ " intoned S.A.M. over the channel.

A crackle. Then the unmistakable, guttural voice of a kett. Sara felt the hairs on her arm rise, recalling the same voices, speaking a language she didn't know, carried by the wind back on Habitat Seven.

" ** _... big... candidate... abort... emergency... reinforcements... help..._** "

" _Pathfinder, these are the few phrases I am able to decipher from their transmissions, indicating that the signal Dr. Anwar picked up may be a distress beacon. However, its strength is such that it can only be picked up within a ten-kilometer radius. I hypothesize the beacon has been damaged in some way, perhaps by battle._ "

"How do you know that, Sam?" queried Cora.

" _Four of the deciphered phrases the kett are using appear similar to terms used by Alliance and Hierarchy military units to request additional firepower, Lieutenant Harper._ "

"So... something's ripping them to shreds," piped Vetra, sticking her head between Sara and Cora. "And we know there's only one living being on this planet that can do that by himself."

* * *

Sara immediately took cover behind one of the Remnant structures poking out from the sand, its blue lines winking at her. Cora and Vetra took cover behind another, as a kett went flying through the air, crumpling in a heap a short distance away from them, spasming.

They'd seen Drack from afar, picking him out easily from the melee thanks to his bulk and yellow armor. Cora watched in wide-eyed wonder as the krogan charged, slamming into a pair of kett with his shoulder, one tumbling away and the other, unable to extricate itself, ended up being squashed against a Remnant pillar, falling limply, its head hanging at an impossible angle.

Sara winced.

"You know this guy?" Cora gestured with her shotgun.

"Yeah," quipped Vetra. "Met him through Kesh. Grumpy old grandpa, but he means well. Hey, Drack!" she yelled. "Got any more left for us?"

The krogan wheeled around, oblivious to the plasma shots impacting his armor. One struck him in the side of the head; he roared in pain - or anger, or annoyance, Sara didn't know which - and strode towards the offending kett, his monster of a weapon leading the way. The discharge of the weapon Sara could feel through her armor, a fine mist of green blood hanging in the air.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? GET YOUR BUTTS OVER HERE, LET'S GET KILLING!" roared the krogan. "HAHAHAHAHA!"

Vetra grinned and flipped herself over cover, her Cyclone up and firing, the lieutenant following close behind, biotic energy already swirling around her off-hand. Sara took a deep breath and entered the fray, reminding herself that her Avenger had fewer shots now but more damage, thanks to Jon's tinkering.

The kett had been corralled into a corner, concentrating their firepower as Drack bore down on them, breathing heavily, each footfall of his shaking the Remnant platform that Sara found herself on. She swiveled and fired a burst at a kett that popped up from cover, feeling the kick of the weapon against her shoulder, and was surprised to see it keel over from a single burst, green blood spattering the Remnant rock behind it.

"Ryder! Hah! About time you joined the party!"

Cora ran forward, jamming her shotgun into a kett's face. It brought an arm up in time, knocking the shotgun out of Cora's hands - and regretted the decision almost immediately when Cora delivered a biotic punch to its body, leaving a bloody hole, the kett swaying for a moment before falling flat onto the rock.

Vetra was mopping up the stragglers, boosting herself onto a taller Remnant pillar, scanning, the spinup churning of her Cyclone heralding a barrage of shots. A kett tried to draw a bead on her, only to be hammered into the ground, a two-second burst.

Sara ducked under a kett's swipe of its arm - _is that a sword?_ \- and drew her arm back. The omniblade sunk deep, but it failed to snap off at her wrist. Sara's eyes widened as the kett grinned at her, drawing its weapon from its back one-handed, the barrel coming up -

Before she could even register it, her right hand sprang to the pistol on her right thigh, and she pumped four shots into the kett's head from below, screwing the barrel deep under its chin. She blinked at the speed she managed to pull that off - _Dad. His training at home -_

No time to think.

A whine from above, a shadow across the platform. A kett dropship. Sara aimed and fired, but her shots merely plinked against the dropship's outer shell, no dice. Her blood froze when a large kett stepped off the dropship and landed on the platform with a thud that rattled her teeth in her skull. The same heavy that took them many long minutes to put down back at Promise.

"Drack!" she yelled. "Big one!"

The krogan muscled past several standard kett, grunting, the kett lowering their weapons as they watched their leader utter something in their tongue, a deep growl, and triggered the weapon it was carrying. Drack was already moving by then, closing the distance, the barrage of plasma shots seemingly having no effect on the krogan as he slammed -

Sara recoiled violently as a plasma shot whizzed past her face, a muted beeping in her ear. Her shields were depleted. She dropped into the nearest cover she could find, swapping out a thermal clip, waiting for her barriers to recharge and go up again.

She was panting heavily when it was all over, looking around her at the mass of white-green bodies, Avenger hanging loosely from a hand. Vetra did a sweep of the area before jumping down to meet them, announcing that the area was clear. Cora brushed a lock of fringe hair out of her eyes, smiling. "Feels good to be back in the thick of it, Ryder."

Drack kicked at the corpse of the heavy he'd managed to singlehandedly take down. "Damn fool." Sara knew that krogans were tough sons-of-bitches, but what she'd just seen... now she understood Vetra's advice on recruiting Drack. He could handle tough fights, up close, and was a good distraction, allowing her and Cora to pick off kett that weren't checking their six.

Maybe she could convince him right now.

Drack chuckled, looking about them. "This one," he kicked the corpse again. "Has a shield, sort of like our own kinetic barriers. You can either take it down like I did, up close and personal where the shields doesn't matter, or you can use disruptors. Remember that."

"Duly noted," said Cora, dipping her head.

"Heh. That fight was fun." Drack stomped over to Sara. "You can really handle yourself, kid. And I hear that you're the one to thank for clearing up the sky? I guess I had your number all wrong."

Here it was. Her chance.

A flash of memory, from the first time she met Drack, played in her mind's eye: _Drack slipping the dead dog-creature's tooth into a pocket. "Hrmph. Tempting as that is, Vetra, I'm a little old to be carrying humans through a fight. Besides, the day I help the Nexus again, is the day the clouds part and the kett keel over."_

A sly smile formed on Sara's lips: she could use that. She raised her eyebrows and her arms, gesturing at the sky. "Well, Drack. The clouds parted. And..." she looked about them theatrically. "These kett look pretty keeled over. Maybe..." she shrugged. "Us humans can pull our weight after all."

Drack tugged at the bolt his weapon. A thermal clip the size of a drink canister flew past Sara - she ignored it, though it did startle her, the size of it. "Well, you can, clearly. But there's a lot to do before I'd be that smug about it."

Vetra came up next to Sara, a hand on her shoulder. "Woah, Drack. That almost sounds like a compliment. What do you say, huh? Wanna help us do some good?"

The krogan chuckled again, rocks being crushed in a grinder. "You know what, Vetra, Pathfinder? I'm gonna ignore my gut, and join up with you. The fight was good, and we can do it again. Oho, I _want_ to."

Ah, that krogan bloodlust. Sara grinned. Drack will certainly be getting his fair share of 'fun.'

"And before you go saying you don't need a krogan, believe me, you do."

"Wasn't going to, Drack. In fact, I welcome you aboard the Tempest." Sara stuck her hand out.

Drack's handshake nearly dislocated her elbow. "I'll see you at that site you've been setting up, then," rumbled Drack. "Don't worry, I won't need a ride. I could use the run."

As the krogan thundered off, Vetra punched Sara in the shoulder. "See? He isn't so bad, Ryder. Let him rip through things he can kill, it's like a shot of endorphins. Good mood for the rest of the day. In all seriousness, though, he's a walking tank. We might be going up against meaner Remnant bots, or kett, pretty soon. Gut feeling," Vetra patted her belly. "Never let me down before."

Something Vetra said before the battle nagged at Sara as she checked herself for injuries. "Uh, Vetra? How did you meet Drack again?"

"Through Kesh. Why?"

"Superintendent Kesh? That Kesh? On board the Nexus?"

Vetra scratched one of her mandibles. "Well, yeah. How many other Keshes do we know of here, in this new galaxy? Kesh is Drack's granddaughter."

"I think Jon's going to love this," murmured Sara as they trudged back to the Nomad.


	25. Return To Base

Jon looked up at the footsteps.

They were R.T.B. Sara said that it was because Tann had something to discuss with her in person; Pathfinder assignments, most likely, now that Prodromos had been established. Out the viewports were streaks of light, the Tempest in F.T.L. travel. Forty or so minutes, standard time, before they got there. Jon was looking forward to utilizing the Nexus' machine shop; he had a project that could help the mission, and he needed tools that the Tempest didn't have.

A few days back, while touring the Tempest for the first time, he'd noted that the conference room, at the rear of the ship, seemed like a good place to work, his new favorite spot. Back in the A.E.C., while in transit, he'd always sequester himself away in the one place the ship's crew were least likely to visit, so that he could work on his gear in peace without people poking their noses into his business, annoyances. While New Canton left a bitter taste in his mouth and mind, he'd never stopped tinkering with things. And coming to the New World - he smiled to himself, remembering how out-of-place he'd felt - only gave him more things to look at, take apart, understand how they worked.

It was a habit, he assumed, picked up from somewhere he couldn't quite remember, been doing it since... _forever_ , he supposed. Couldn't quite recall. And now he's here, in the Andromeda Galaxy, with resources stretched thin, it was almost like being back in New Canton, messing around with only the things that he could get his hands on, recycling and reusing things fished from the oil-slicked harbor waters or scavved from the landfills. Broken toys and tools refashioned into something useful, something that could get the job done.

Only now, he slept in a comfortable bunk, wore comfortable clothes, everything bright and shiny and clean and... white, all of which New Canton wasn't. New Canton was dirty, stank most days, clothes passed down from generation to generation, but _damn_ if Jon didn't miss it sometimes, watching the stars go by! It was so much more colorful and full of life than the New World! He closed his eyes: _children yelled at him from the rooftops, calling out, "_ Xie xie da ge! _" as he tossed sweets and cobbled-together toys up to them; the adults acknowledging him with nicotine-stained fingers outside a grungy coffeeshop, offering him a cigarette which he declined politely; Chinese New Year, celebrated in Central Square, red everywhere, fireworks, the one time every year the slums truly came to life, people in every door, sweet biscuits and other treats every few meters he and Ches walked..._

"Err, hello? Anyone home?"

Jon blinked. He had looked up, but the colors were still playing in his mind's eye. The disk had slipped from his fingers, lying on the ground sheet he'd laid out on the floor of the conference room. Blue and white, a female form, brown hair, blue eyes, a hand in front of his face, moving up and down.

"Oh. Hey, Sara. Sorry, I was... far away."

The Pathfinder smiled. He grasped the forearm she offered and pulled himself to his feet, dusting himself off as Sara ran an eye over... whatever it was he was doing. "Hard at work, I see. What is it?"

"Something useful. Still in its early stages, though. Hard to make an actual one with the resource shortage."

Sara picked up the disk, turning it over in her fingers. "This..." She remembered the tinny whine she'd heard back on Eos, looking for a place to set up Prodromos. "A drone?"

"Yup. Nothing substantial yet. It can't even stay off the ground for a full minute, but... it'll get there," Jon shrugged.

"That's... great, Jon, but um..." Sara gestured vaguely in the direction of the stairs. Someone was coming, their footsteps on the polished polymer floor.

"Got it."

The ground sheet was quickly folded away, his work enclosed within, tucked under one of the benches before the rest of the crew came into the conference room - Lieutenant Harper, Vetra, and... the floor juddered as Drack stomped into the room, took one look around and promptly plopped himself down in one of the couches that ran the circumference of the conference room, making himself comfortable with a grunt. Taking up the rear was the asari, PeeBee - who was apparently impatient enough to disregard her own message to them about meeting up at the Nexus, jumping on the Tempest's ramp as it was closing and surprising the crap out of them all, an Initiative duffel bag over her shoulder, grinning from ear to ear at their bewilderment.

Now, she snuck behind Jon, keeping him between her and Drack. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she gave him a pained giggle. He shrugged and let it be, leaning over to Sara, on his right, dropping his voice. "What's this?"

"Team meeting," she murmured back. He nodded and straightened, as expected of a subordinate when a superior was about to address them.

"Okay, so before the meeting gets started, I have bunk assignments for PeeBee and Drack," announced Lieutenant Harper, looking at each of them in turn, lingering on Drack, her face cautious. The krogan patted his belly. "Already put my rucksack in the kitchen. I'll hang out there, if that's okay," he rumbled, the acoustics of the room adding a deeper timber to his voice.

"Ooh, I'm in one of the escape pods!" PeeBee raised a hand, bouncing on her heels. "More my speed."

Lieutenant Harper pursed her lips, pushing herself off the conference table. "That's... _fantastic_. Welcome aboard, then. Any thoughts, Ryder?"

Beside him, Sara shrugged. "We're adventurers, explorers, not military. Whatever makes the squad comfortable is okay with me. Now..."

Cora shifted to a side to let Sara take center stage. This meeting was apparently necessary, according to protocol, the Pathfinder him- or herself debriefing the team on the last mission, and briefing them for the next. Not that Sara wasn't used to meetings like these - she'd been in plenty as a marine - but she was the one heading the meeting this time, a position usually taken by her former C.O., Captain Maajida. It served as yet another reminder of the position she'd inherited, and she had an inkling there'll be many more meetings like these, here on the Tempest or on the Nexus or in Prodromos or wherever they've established outposts, her position as Pathfinder necessitating her to attend.

Sara wasn't exactly the sort who gave speeches well, or gave speeches at all. The one she'd made before the Tempest's maiden flight was a testament to that, or so it seemed to her anyway; Dad was a better orator. She coughed once to hide her discomfort and spoke. "Let's talk about our success on Eos. Besides establishing our first viable outpost, we did some amazing things. We discovered the Remnant, and breached their vault -"

"And didn't get killed by that shadow-thing!" chimed PeeBee. Lieutenant Harper shot a surprised look at the asari, as though she was hearing that for the first time. _Perhaps it is_ , Jon mused.

"Hmm... managed to avoid getting radiation poisoning," continued Sara.

"Safety, the best policy," Jon nodded.

"Fought plenty of kett, more than we could count."

"And survived. Obviously," shrugged Vetra.

Sara took a deep breath. These people were not helping calm her nerves, even if they were just a small group who knew each other. She was spared continuing her debrief when Drack spoke up from his couch, all heads turning to him.

"You guys really need to raise the bar on what you call _success_ ," he rumbled, barely moving.

Cora took a step forward, a frown. "Yeah, sure. How about we use the _krogan_ definition of success? Success that got your homeworld _nuked_ by your own people?"

Jon stared. What was the lieutenant doing, trying to piss off a krogan deliberately? One whom nearly gutted Sara, and agreed to join them thanks to a change of mind inspired largely by Sara's actions? But instead of the cold anger that Jon was expecting Drack to show, ready to toss something, the krogan simply chuckled and cocked his head. "Hah! Fair enough, Lieutenant."

He smiled toothily. That sent shivers running down Jon's spine as he watched Sara, still wary of the krogan outsider. The Pathfinder looked between the lieutenant and the krogan, waiting for either of them to speak, the lieutenant stepping back, her face a mask, before Sara spoke, getting the meeting back on track.

"Okay, let's focus. Back to the task at hand - looking forward."

PeeBee jumped forward, her excitement palpable, turning to face Sara, her evident fear of Drack seemingly evaporated. "Exactly! Here's my only question - when do we hit that next vault? It looked active - we _have_ to get on that!"

"Hang on, hang on," said Vetra, stepping forward to face the asari, a frown on her avian features. "What we _need_ is not to go off halfcocked."

"The Initiative takes priority," said Jon. "No offense, PeeBee, but we need to set up outposts, not go chasing after Remtech."

"The Pathfinder calls the shots, so it's her decision, just to be clear," reminded Cora sharply, looking at Sara.

The conference room fell silent for a while. Sara felt an itch on her back, but she didn't want to appear undignified by reaching around to scratch it while heading a meeting. She could hear Jon's soft breathing next to her, his presence warm and welcoming. She half-closed her eyes, privately enjoying the feeling for a moment, something that she'd told no one else about.

"So, Ryder. What do you need from us?" asked Vetra, breaking the quiet.

A team. That was what she had now, a capable team. What she _needed_ , though...

Sara pointed out one of the viewports. "Heleus threw us for a loop... meaning we're kinda new at this." She looked at each of them in turn. "All of us. So let's figure out what the rules are now, and try to stick to them. And..." She looked pointedly at Cora. "Let's be _kind_ and give each other the benefit of the doubt. Finding a home for tens of thousands in his hellscape is stressful enough. We do not need _dysfunction_ here."

Cora seemed to get the message. She nodded curtly at Sara as she crossed in front of the Pathfinder, heading for the stairs. "Sounds good."

The others took the cue, the meeting dismissed. PeeBee grinned at Sara before bouncing off, "If there's one thing I know I can do, Ryder, it's _make up_ rules. See ya!"

Sara tried to keep her face neutral as Vetra's voice wafted up from the research room below. "No one said _make up rules_ , PeeBee. Can we please keep anarchy to a minimum..."

"Good... meeting, everyone," she grumbled. It added to her insecurity, everyone leaving before she closed the meeting. Back in the Milky Way, no one moved a muscle as Dad was briefing the original Pathfinder team on extraction patterns, saluting him at the end of the meeting and allowing him to leave the room before they did so themselves. Even the nonmilitary personnel, scientists and support staff, listened to what he had to say respectfully, waiting till he turned the corner before daring to continue on their way.

And all this was despite his very public dishonorable discharge from the Alliance military.

It made Sara feel small, despite her status as Pathfinder, the differences she could see clearly, then and now. The frustration she'd been tamping down, keeping carefully at bay, pushed to the back of her head when she was down on Eos, all of it came rushing back. She never wanted this role! Why did Dad pass it to her? Why not Lieutenant Harper, his second-in-command, _her_ second-in-command, who was the first to walk out of the meeting? Why did the Initiative have to be so fucked up on their arrival? Why couldn't things just go right _for once_ in her life? Stripped of her rank of corporal; dishonorably discharged even with a spotless Alliance record because she was Alec Ryder's daughter; her love life a mess because of her average looks and again, because she was Alec Ryder's daughter; the career she wanted, being an archaeologist like her idol Dr. Liara T'Soni, flattened because Alec Ryder wanted her to join the _fucking_ military -

 _Why?_

"Sara? I mean, Pathfinder?"

Sara jumped a foot in the air and whirled around. Jon was still in position, gazing expectantly at her, back straight, at ease. "Does this conclude the meeting?"

"Yes. Yes, Jon, it is concluded. Or didn't you see everyone going off?" Sara closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. A small throb made itself known in her right temple. _Oh, great. Another headache. Just great._

"I did, but you didn't officially declare it." He walked over to her. "You alright?"

"I dunno, Jon, you tell me." She gripped the handrail in front of her, glaring down the staircase. "Tell me what a horrible job I'm doing so far. Tell me what a failure I am at being the Pathfinder, the _fucking_ tip of the _fucking_ spear like Jien Garson said? What am I even doing here, leading everyone?"

A squeak, Sara's hands tightening around the handrail, the muscles on the back of her hands taut. " _Why?_ " she whispered. Tightness in her chest, the anger giving way to... something else. She willed herself not to cry, not to cry, _not in front of a teammate, no, don't -_

The hot tears came, sliding down her face as a suppressed sob broke free of the tightness in her chest.

"Hey."

Jon's hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, his voice soft. Up to now, he'd never seen Sara Ryder cry before. She must have when she got the news that her father was dead - of course, Jon wasn't there to see it. He was in the shower, trying to drown himself, mind a complete blank, but that didn't matter now.

The stress must be getting to Sara. The others were rude to just dismiss themselves like that, but Jon couldn't fault them entirely. Sara was untested, untrained, and until she could prove otherwise, no one would take her seriously, _could_ take her seriously. One outpost was well and good, but it was but a drop in the ocean - he had to grudgingly admit that Addison was right: Sara'd told him what Addison talked to her about as they were lifting off from Eos, checking their armor and weapons, storing them away.

Lieutenant Harper, though, should know better. She was by-the-book, stickler for protocol, and it genuinely surprised Jon when she left first. Was it because Sara chided her for baiting Drack like that, reckless as she was? Or was Harper still sore at the whole Pathfinder transference thing, injured when Sara was the one to remind her of the importance of cooperation, of diplomacy, one of the traits needed to be a Pathfinder?

Sara leaned into his hand, quiet sobs escaping her. Jon merely rested his other arm on the handrail, squeezing Sara's shoulder consolingly, said nothing, looking up at the lightstreams. Sara needed a comforting presence now, not words. He made a mental note to ask Kallo how lightstreams were formed, traveling at F.T.L. like this...

Jon wasn't the sort to trust someone easily, but everyone on the Tempest flight crew had his confidence so far. Lexi, naturally; Gil, a little gruff but someone he could talk engineering with, despite their vastly different specializations; Suvi and Kallo, both experts in their fields, intimidating Jon with their knowledge, but both also warm and welcoming, asking about him to get to know him better, not because they wanted something from him.

Sara shifted; Jon allowed his hand to slide off her shoulder as she straightened, dabbing at her face with the sleeve of her jumpsuit. "Sorry, Jon, for seeing me like this," she mumbled.

"Hey, it's okay to fall apart once in a while," he reassured her, voice low. "You don't have to apologize, or explain yourself, Sara. Just... let it out."

A lock of chocolate-brown hair had fallen over Sara's face, obscuring her blue eyes as she sniffled, pressing her sleeve to her nose. She looked so small now, very different from the Sara he saw in action at Promise, in the Remnant vault. That Sara seemed to read his mind, working alongside him to set up a killzone, covering him as he swapped thermal clips, him covering her as she unleashed biotic abilities. A marine he could count on in a firefight, a marine he was glad to fight alongside, die for, even.

That Sara stared in wonder at the vastness of those Remnant caverns, looked on in fascination as the Remnant console's keys shifted under her touch, fell to her knees and gaped at that massive underground Remnant city, motionless, too shocked by what was probably the archaeological finding of a lifetime for her. A scholar, denied her true calling, finally getting a taste of what it was like to discover, like her mentors and masters of discovery before her.

This Sara looked so lost, a look of desolation on her face, that he could hardly believe both Saras were the same person. The stark difference - the fighter and scholar, and this miserable young woman here in front of him - just made him want to draw her into his arms and hold her tight, the urge to protect her even stronger now in his chest where it had already been manifesting since she was named Pathfinder, carrying out his last order from Alec Ryder himself.

"I'm weak, Jon. That's why they all left just like that. I'm nothing compared to my father. He's a fucking N7! He created Sam! I'm just... me! Sara fucking Ryder! Trying her best and still..." Sara loosened her grip on the handrail, lifting her hands to her face. She inhaled deeply. Dropped her arms to her side, limp.

"I'm not cut out for this, Jon. I'm really not," whispered Sara, her tears now pattering onto the smooth floor. Her fists tightened. "First thing we do back at the Nexus, I'll pass Pathfinder authority to Cora. Then maybe things will go right again."

Jon swallowed the lump in his throat. He clasped her shoulders, Sara looking up at him, her brilliant blue eyes glistening.

"No, you're not," he said gently. "You're going to march up to Director Tann's office, hear what he has to say, then continue leading us through the stars. Yeah, maybe you aren't cut out for the Pathfinder job, but it don't mean you're doing a _bad_ job of it. I've been with you since the beginning, Sara, I've seen what you've gone through, and honestly," Jon shook his head, a short laugh escaping him. "Honestly, you have a fire of your own, one that inspires me. _There's a girl who'd just lost everything_ , I told myself. _And yet, she keeps pushing on despite all that shit being thrown her way. I'd follow her into the depths of hell if she asked me to_. And I mean every word of that, Sara. I mean, just look! In three days, you've cleared a whole fucking _planet_ of radiation and set up the Initiative's first outpost! No one else here can say the same thing, not in the fourteen months they've been here, and I'm proud of you because of that!"

Something shifted in Sara's eyes; Jon realized he had been staring into them for a while now. He let his arms drop and averted his gaze, his face burning. He'd gone overboard this time. What was he thinking, saying all that shit? He hoped Sara would say something, anything, but she remained silent. He could feel her gaze on him, though, but he had to push his point across. He'd been there before, a fucking street rat in the New World, and fuck it all, he'd be _damned_ if he let someone else feel that same pain like he did!

"Things were already messed up when we got here, Sara," he said quietly. "That's just how things work in this universe. It's cold, it's heartless, merciless. We can either give up and let it take us, or we can... begin. Just, start, you know, doing things to make things right, or as right as they can be. And you've _started_ , Sara. You didn't give up. That fire of yours, it's the only thing leading us now, all of us, through everything's that going on here, in Andromeda, right now. And that doesn't make you weak. Acknowledging that you're flawed, doesn't make you weak."

Jon scuffed his boot against the floor. "Like I've been saying, Sara. I'm with you, till the end. No matter what. And I'm not breaking that promise now."

Quiet between them, his eyes on his boots, his piece said. Jon hoped that the Pathfinder - no, _Sara_ , he firmly told himself - he hoped that Sara understood what he'd just said, because if he had to do it again, he probably couldn't wind up the courage to do so. The heat he felt from telling Sara how much she meant to the Initiative had dissipated, leaving him wondering where did he manage to stoke up so much bravery in the first place to put all he felt into words -

He took an involuntary step back. "I'm... well. Um. I'll... leave you to your thoughts, Sara. Probably... quite a bit to figure out," mumbled Jon. A sort of panic had come over him, wondering if he'd said the wrong thing. He felt the walls closing in, his fingers brushing along the handrail, the air suddenly unbearably warm. He became acutely aware of how he could hear the quiet beeps of the Tempest's computer farm below, the faint humming of the ODSY drive somewhere under his feet, even Vetra's muffled voice, coming from behind the closed doors of the tech lab -

"No. Don't."

A warm hand around his wrist. Jon froze, slowly looking up. Sara Ryder wiped the last of her tears off on her sleeve, and smiled at him, a sad sort of smile, not-quite-in-it, but he could tell she was trying hard. She brushed the offending lock of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear...

He didn't dare move when Sara closed the distance between them, tucking her head in his chest, wrapping her arms around him, not saying a word. The gesture though, chased away the thoughts in his head, leaving it empty, a sort of calm coming over him as Sara squeezed him a little tighter, pulling him closer.

He gingerly reached around her and very tentatively, hugged her back, but not as tightly, didn't feel right to be doing that. He patted her back.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered.

Sara nodded into his chest.

* * *

"Ciarrai. _Ciarrai!_ You done yet?"

"Hold your horses, Keri, this thing's delicate, alright?"

"I know that, just hurry up!"

"Yeah, and you've been saying that for the past twenty minutes now. Gets old, you know."

"If you'd just - _Ciarrai, she's here!_ "

"What, wh - damn it, okay, here it goes!"

The cambot whirred and rose to head height, moving away, rising higher. Keri T'Vessa did a quick check of her face in a mirror that Ciarrai held up, looked the cambot in the lens, and nodded. Ciarrai tapped LIVE on her omnitool. A second later, holoscreens around the Nexus all switched to a single channel, a live feed, a smiling Keri T'Vessa announcing breathlessly:

"Good morning, Nexus. I'm Keri T'Vessa for Heleus News Service, live from the docking bay, where the Tempest is on final approach. As you can see, many have gathered to welcome the Pathfinder back from her successful mission to Eos, which, according to Director Jarun Tann's declaration two days ago, has been cleared of deadly radiation that has seen the demise of two previous attempts at settlement..."

* * *

"That's... a lot of people," commented Gil dryly. "Lucky they aren't here for me."

Sara grimaced, her bag over her shoulder. Vetra piped up from her left, "Course not, Gil. They're here for all two meters of me, the fabulous and glamorous Vetra Nyx."

Cora rolled her eyes, hefting her own bag. "Can't get enough of you, Nyx, can they?"

"What can I say, Harper? Turians. We have the height, the reach, and..." Vetra smiled slyly, her fingers playing patterns in the air. "Flexibility."

An audible groan was the first thing the onlookers heard, the ramp coming down. That was nothing compared to the tidal wave of noise that came crashing down on the crew of the Tempest as they descended, a sea of bodies, each saying something different that were lost in the overall din.

" _Pathfinder! Pathfinder, over here!_ "

" _Goddess, we've been given a miracle!_ "

" _Pathfinder, is it true? We're settling Eos?_ "

" _Great job on Eos, Pathfinder!_ "

" _Behind you all the way!_ "

" _Thank the spirits, we have a chance now!_ "

Sara looked about. So many faces, ecstatic to see her. Human, asari, turian, salarian, all cheering for her, clamoring, reaching hands out to shake her hand, to get a touch of the Pathfinder, their savior. Vetra winked and yelled to be heard over the commotion, " _Good luck!_ " and ducked off to a side, a small group of deckhands greeting her. Suvi was received by a Nexus science officer, a salarian whom Sara vaguely recognized from Dad's interactions with him - Professor Hudrik? H-something.

So many people she'd met alongside Dad preflight, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, that she'd forgotten most of them.

Kallo half-ran, jerky and awkward in his movements, to point something out on the Tempest's hull to the maintenance crew who were rushing up to the Tempest, the crew nodding and exchanging details with him, Kallo waving his arms about, animated. Gil smiled and waved carelessly before catching sight of someone he knew, nearly running into the crowd to embrace her, Security personnel allowing him to pass their cordon. Sara could only make out reddish cornrows, about the same shade as Gil's own neatly-kept hair, before they both disappeared into the throng of people. _A sister, perhaps._

That left Cora and Jon, who flanked Sara on either side. Cora seemed to be at ease with the situation, so many people around them, laughing and doing a meet-and-greet with a small band of asari who'd caught her attention, and Sara suddenly realized something about Cora's nonregulation hairstyle - it was styled in such a way as to mimic the scalpcrests of the asari! She'd always wondered why Cora would keep such a unique hairstyle, assumed that it was because of a rebellious phase while serving in the Alliance. _Her time with Talein's Daughters must have left a long-lasting impression on her_.

A touch on her elbow, to get her attention. "You might want to talk to a few of them, let them know that Pathfinder Ryder's a people person," murmured Jon. "I'll be in the machine shop. Call me if you need anything."

The blood rushed to her face as Sara realized how close Jon had to come to her to let himself be heard, his lips right next to her ear. She didn't know why she'd hugged him back there in the conference room; she certainly did not plan it. It just... _happened_. Maybe it was the things he said that washed away all the negative opinions she had of herself ever since she took up the Pathfinder mantle. Perhaps it was the way he spoke, voice low and calm, that soothed the turmoil within her, something she really needed.

Or simply because she felt so lost and lonely. Dad was gone, Mom was gone, Scott still in a coma on the Hyperion, none of her ex-squadmates joining her in the Initiative. It was bad enough, leaving everything and everyone she knew behind, with only Dad and Scott to rely on for support, and now with both out of the picture, Sara felt like she was adrift at sea like one of those old-Earth explorers, all alone with no one to talk to. Sure, she had the Tempest crew, but they were relatively new faces. Cora was like an older sister to her, but things seemed to have gone chilly between them as of late, exacerbated by her leaving the meeting first.

Jon, though, had been there the whole time. First thing he did when they met, was to save her life. Watched her back throughout Habitat Seven, and Eos, putting himself in danger to defend her. And while he may be a little awkward, she found his pep talk in the conference room hugely inspiring, spirit-lifting. She'd thought he was just another soldier like the many that Dad had picked for the team, but there was a surprising depth to the combat engineer that she'd seen so far. He was rock-solid, dependable.

Maybe that's why she hugged him, needing an anchor in that lonely sea she was lost in, finally finding something solid that gave her hope and courage once more -

Her thoughts were disrupted when he pushed her gently, a hand in her back, towards a group of human colonists who thrust datapads at her, wanting her signature, asking her a thousand questions. She craned her neck to catch one last look at Jon -

\- he was gone. So was that wonderful, familiar presence that she'd gotten used to, a warm fuzzy feeling that told her on a subliminal level that things will be okay. She forced herself to smile and answer questions, handing out autographs, but she couldn't deny the presence of a small pit of emptiness she felt in her chest at his absence, something she found she was beginning to dislike.

Sudden quiet, the crowd stilling as one. Sara turned.

Drack plodded slowly down the Tempest's ramp. Even at this distance, Sara could hear his grumbling, something about his knees. All the Security personnel making up the cordon have turned to face the krogan, hands hovering over weapons. Three of them actually drew their rifles, aiming them.

"Freeze, exile!"

Drack waved a hand dismissively. "Ryder, mind saying something before I snap a few spines?" His voice was loud in the quiet, carrying easily to the back of the crowd, which began to thin, people fleeing at the sight of a krogan, heading for exits. Drack arched his back and inhaled deeply, but stayed where he was, windmilling his arms. If the situation wasn't serious, Sara would have chuckled at the sight. The guns remained trained on him, though each shook at the threat he'd just issued casually, like ordering breakfast.

Sara wondered why everyone was behaving the way they were - _oh. Yeah, the uprising_. The krogan weren't exactly welcome here anymore.

"Stand down, Security! He's with me," Sara called out, handing the datapad back to the colonist she'd received it from. The colonist didn't even spare a breath for a _thank you_ , tucking the pad under his arm and booking it to the nearest tram.

The Security personnel relaxed. Slightly. The three guns looked at each other for a moment before lowering their weapons. "Understood, Pathfinder."

Now that the docking bay was relatively clear, Sara was able to look around without a throng of people blocking her way. A turian came up to her, female, her carapace far darker than any turian than Sara had ever seen before, a Security decal on the left side of her chestpiece, a similar patch on her left arm.

"Pathfinder Ryder? Lieutenant Sajax. I'm Kandros' aide."

"Pleasure, Lieutenant. How are things aboard the Nexus?"

Sajax smiled. "They all wanted to see you. It's been a while since real hope came around."

"Until they saw this mug coming," rumbled Drack.

"The uprising's still fresh for many, Pathfinder. Your krogan friend won't find many friendly faces here. We'll do our best to keep you and your team safe, but..." Sajax looked between Sara and Drack, who looked bored, holding up the tooth Sara saw him extract from that dead dog-thing back on Eos, examining it under the artificial sunlight.

"Don't bother, Sajax," growled Drack. "The ones whom you should be keeping safe are those who think they can take me on. I've been around for far too long to be inconvenienced by something as trivial as people out for my blood."

"He's not here to make trouble, Lieutenant. Just to see Superintendent Kesh," explained Sara.

"Hah! I see Vetra's told you about her already. My _ru'shan_ probably knows I'm on board the Nexus by now thanks to the screaming," grumped Drack, stomping away. "Sajax, send your people elsewhere. I know where Engineering is."

Sajax nodded at the two Security personnel who'd flanked Drack, ready to escort him; they broke away. "Sorry about that, Pathfinder. New galaxy, but same old animosity. I've got nothing against krogans, but the uprising has left just about everyone here skittish about even one of them."

"Including the Superintendent?"

Sajax sighed. "They wanted to throw her out like the rest of the krogan. Problem is, she's the only one with complete knowledge of how the Nexus works, inside and out. To remove her means that someone less qualified would have to take her job. And we don't need that, especially now, with so many things falling apart, breaking down, or even blowing up..." Sajax shook her head. "Sorry, Pathfinder. Didn't mean to grouse."

"No problem, Lieutenant. I just hope me and my team's efforts are helping smooth things over."

"You've begun to make a dent, at least," acknowledged Sajax. "Like I said, been a while since there was any real hope around here. Plenty more smiles going around now than ever before, plenty of battered spirits being lifted, and it's all thanks to you, Pathfinder."

* * *

Jon pressed his palm against the locker's pad. It whirred under his skin for a moment, the pad warming up, before a quiet confirmatory beep sounded, the lock disengaging. He pulled the door open, looking into the locker, the door swinging open with barely a whisper.

The locker was empty. Of course it was; after all, he'd moved all his personal effects onto the Tempest, except for the titanium knife which he always kept on his person, always switching up where it was hidden - today, it was strapped to his right forearm, his Initiative jumpsuit sleeve loose and baggy enough to hide the straps.

Of course, that was what he wanted everyone to believe, the locker being empty.

He took a quick glance around the prep room. It was probably the only place on the Hyperion - or the Nexus, for that matter - that was unmonitored, unlinked to any system except life support and lighting. Alec Ryder had pointed that out to him while they were touring the Hyperion back then, adding that the walls were shielded from any form of electronic surveillance so that the prep room could double as a private briefing room, the Pathfinder delivering classified information to the team before or after missions, with no one the wiser, except S.A.M. of course, who is privy to everything through the Pathfinder's eyes.

Of course, even S.A.M. would be blind and deaf to whatever went on inside the room if the person inside did not have a S.A.M. implant...

Jon dug around inside his bag, laying a mess of junk on the shelf of the locker in front of him - polymer, cracked bits of plastic, minor electronic components. Deft now, his fingers moved quickly, assembling something akin to one of the toys he used to make for the children back in New Canton. He was careful to keep his omnitool deactivated, angling the activation panel away from his fingers.

Thirty seconds. He set the completed toy down. Now, the moment of truth.

He reached past the toy, right to the back of the locker, and felt about with his fingers. He'd hidden it somewhere... _there_.

Abruptly, he snatched the toy up and shut the locker door, ensuring the locking mechanism was engaged. He made sure to hold the toy up to the light as he exited the prep room, plastering a happy smile on his face as though he'd forgotten to pick that toy up before, and was glad to see that it was still there.

The tiny S.A.M. module in the ceiling, next to a strip light, logged his entry and exit from the prep room, S.A.M. passively monitoring the area.

The time he'd been in the prep room was one minute fourteen seconds.

* * *

" _Checking connection. Please stand by, Sara._ "

Sara bit her lip. This was her second time here, in S.A.M. Node, under S.A.M.'s and Dr. T'Perro's advisement. The ice-blue light of S.A.M.'s avatar bathed the chamber, playing across her arms on the console in front of her, her hands splayed on the pads there. She winced as a stab of pain made itself known in the back of her neck, where the implant was.

" _Initializing._ "

At least the place was quiet. Sara gritted her teeth as an unnatural warmth began to spread outward from the implant, going up her neck to her scalp, going down her neck to her spine. Her fingers tingled on the pads, her toes going numb. Her vision began to blur, then darken around the edges, though she was still fully conscious.

"S-Sam?" she heard herself say, her voice far away, the end of a tunnel.

" _Fifty percent complete. Please hold, Sara._ "

Lexi T'Perro frowned at the Pathfinder's expression, monitoring the system's progress on a datapad of her own. The connection... it was still unstable, even after S.A.M. himself made the corrections. How many more sessions like these was it going to take before they can safely remove S.A.M. from Sara Ryder, disengaging the biomechanical nodes? Not that they wanted to remove S.A.M. from Sara _now_ , no. Lexi had to look further ahead, predict what her patients' futures look like. It was inevitable that one day, Sara Ryder would have to lay down her burden as Pathfinder and pass it to someone else. It could be twenty years from now, or even forty, maybe fifty! Who's to say? What happens then, if Sara was still so reliant on S.A.M., the A.I. so intrinsic to her biology that stripping the implant could end up killing her?

Inwardly, Lexi cursed. Damn Alec and his bloody brilliant mind, piggybacking an A.I. module on his wife's biotic implants and creating an entirely new beast altogether, something that even Lexi herself was unable to fully comprehend, despite spending months reviewing Alec's personal notes on his S.A.M. project. Damn him for doing this to his own children, insisting that both Sara and Scott undergo the invasive surgery required to have the implant fitted! See what happened to them! Scott, in a coma she and Harry had to induce to save his life. Sara, suffering from random bouts of pain due to the botched transfer. She was surprisingly resilient, fighting past it all, but having Jonathan around helps her - Lexi could see the rapport between the two, an unlikely friendship formed from one saving the other's life, falling out of the sky...

" _Process complete. How do you feel, Sara?_ "

"Ugh." Sara lifted her hands off the pads, swaying slightly. Lexi stepped forward and gently guided her over to a lazy chair she'd requested from the Nexus, letting the Pathfinder recover from the ordeal she'd just gone through. "I... feel... weird," Sara mumbled.

"Hush, Sara. Take a nap if you feel like it."

"You..." Sara yawned, her world warm and blurry. "Got... it... doc..."

Lexi turned to the console as Sara's eyelids drooped. "S.A.M.?"

" _Please hold, Doctor T'Perro. Sara is currently reliving one of Alec's memories._ "

* * *

Ellen. _God, how he loved her. He hoped that by bringing her here, into his little workshop, she could appreciate, could understand, what he was about to propose to her._

 _She was still clad in her researcher's uniform, a subdued teal. Her arms were crossed as she approached him, at his desk, her silky black hair catching the light from a work lamp he'd set up._

Here goes. _He inhaled deeply._

 _"It's simple, Ellen. We take Sam..."_

 _Ellen's eyebrows quirked, a smile playing on her lips. "Who now?"_

 _"I named the A.I." He looked down at the module, the avatar twinkling like the stars outside. It was a base unit, a simple model, but one day..._

 _"Simulated Adaptive Matrix. S.A.M." He held up a defunct biotic implant, the small sliver of metal cold in his fingers. "We use your research, and interface Sam with an implant."_

 _Ellen's brow furrowed - damn it, he was losing her!_

 _"Um... my work on biotic implants was yielding results, Alec, but this..." She gestured at the module, uncertainty on her face. "I... don't know."_

 _He gently placed the implant onto the tabletop. "What did the doctor say?"_

 _She closed her eyes. "Alec."_

 _The frustration bubbled within him - he said, perhaps a little more sharply than he intended to, "Ellen, what did he say?"_

 _Ellen sighed and paced the room, rubbing her arm. She stopped, looked at him._

 _"It's getting worse."_

 _A chance. He spoke quickly, as though it could change her mind. "There's your answer. This will work. Sam can fix you."_

 _He sounded convincing, even to himself. But Ellen strode over to him, planting her hands on the desk, looking right at him, into his soul. "Alec, I'm not some war you have to win! Not an enemy you must overcome!" She paused, and continued more gently, placing a hand on his. "You're not an N7 anymore."_

 _"That doesn't mean we -"_

 _Her brilliant blue eyes. Sara had inherited her mother's eyes. But he was taken aback by the vehemence in her voice, "They kicked you out of the Alliance for this, Alec! Think for a moment! Stop being a scientist and -"_

 _He couldn't hold it in any longer. He grasped her hand, letting her see the anguish he felt in his chest. "Ellen. We're talking about your_ life _!"_

 _Ellen broke eye contact, looking at the module for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. He lowered his face, blinking the tears away._

 _"Alec..." her voice was gentle, her hand against his cheek, rubbing against the stubble there. "Did you ever consider that... maybe it's my time to go? I'm human. We die. It happens."_

 _Those high cheekbones. Those lips, moving, saying words that he refused to hear. "Ellen, please." His voice was nearly a whisper now, his other hand grasping Ellen's, holding her hands in his own. "Losing you is_ not _an option. The kids, they... they aren't going to lose their mother." He laughed humorlessly, wondering if this was the Lord's way of punishing him for doing what he did. "God knows, they never had a father."_

 _"Then..._ give _them one," murmured Ellen, recapturing his eyes once more. Damn, he wanted to get lost in them forever, like he told her on the day of their wedding. But the clock was ticking, that damned disease eating up his Ellen from the inside out._

 _"They'd..." he sighed heavily. "They'd just ask for a refund."_

 _Quiet. They both knew what he'd just said was most likely true; he hadn't been there for the many important events in their lives, and he wouldn't blame them one bit if they decided not to accept him as the father that he was supposed to be to them, even if he started acting like one now._

 _Ellen peered at the module, at Sam's winking avatar, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "So... can this 'Sam' talk yet?"_

 _"_ Hello, Ellen. _"_

 _She jerked away from the desk in surprise, and laughed, a musical sound he could listen to forever. Ellen was now looking at S.A.M. with renewed interest, a smile on her ice-blue face, S.A.M. reflected in her eyes._

 _"_ Why did the tree go to the dentist? _"_

Oh boy. _He hoped Ellen was okay with corny jokes. He had to admit, there was definite room for improvement in_ that _aspect, both himself and S.A.M._

 _"Uh..." Ellen looked perplexed at the sudden, random question._

 _"_ To get a root canal, _" deadpanned S.A.M., no change in his inflection. He nearly slapped himself on the forehead, heat creeping into his face._

 _Ellen laughed once more, eyes squeezed shut in mirth. In spite of himself, he felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "Humor algorithms," he explained. "Can't seem to get the hang of it."_

 _Ellen's laugh morphed into a chuckle. "Or maybe," she winked at him. "It's the guy teaching him?"_


	26. Time Off

"Terraforming, atmo processors, gravity wells, life-destroying murder-bubbles..." Vetra threw her head back, leaning against the counter, chuckling. "We really had no idea what Heleus was about, did we?"

Jon shrugged, a slight smile on his face as he carefully point-welded another piece onto the drone, suspended in a rigid mass effect field on the workbench in front of him. "Wouldn't be an adventure now, if we knew what it was all about? A new start, the unpredictability of it..."

"It'd just be moving," added Vetra. "Heh. The packing alone is... ugh. Sid will never let me hear the end of it." She passed him another part and watched him work for a bit.

She wondered at the combat engineer in front of her now, able to banter and work like any other normal being who hadn't gone through what he'd gone through, the horrors he'd endured to get to this point in time and life. New Canton, then Akuze... She found next to nothing on the incident on the Nexus databases, which meant it was such an isolated incident that it didn't warrant an entry, or the Alliance covered it up and coerced him into silence. She was more inclined to believe in the latter, which added yet another layer of torment he must have had to endure, not being able to tell his almost-girlfriend's family of her fate.

Vetra wondered if he was okay talking about it. The last time, he closed off immediately. But how to broach the subject? Everyone had their demons to deal with - her included - and sometimes the only way to stop them from rampaging about in your mind is to not think about them at all, bury them under newer, better memories, happier times, shit like that. But Vetra knew some demons were too powerful to kill off entirely - all it takes is a single word, a familiar smell, a lopsided smile, a certain walk, to bring the entire thing back to the forefront of the mind once more.

Maybe she should forget it. Let him be, let him enjoy this new galaxy as himself, as this combat engineer with whom she shared drinks with on occasion on the Citadel. Granted, he never truly drank, only a single glass of asari honey mead each time, courtesy of Ka'aira introducing him to the stuff...

Ka'aira. Vetra's talons tightened involuntarily into fists. Her mentor when she was a teen, and Sid a child. Took her under her wing for about ten years before retiring from the smuggling game to settle down on Earth, of all places. Vetra snorted and chuckled bitterly as she recalled the night she smuggled Jon out of that hellhole that was New Canton, her contact within the conflict-torn city telling her that the whole place had gone to shit with one gang wiping out another and going on a rampage all across town. Jon, this gangster, running away from it all, breaking the news to her that her mentor was gone, and that he was the reason for the gang war breaking out...

"What's up, Vet? You're... mumbling. To yourself."

Vetra shook her head; the haunted eyes and grime-stained face of Jonathan Chang morphed into the curious eyes and clean-faced Jonathan Walker, looking at her, head cocked to a side. He blinked once.

She pushed herself off the counter. "N-nothing. Just thinking." She smiled at him. "I'm wondering if..." she coughed as she racked her brains for something to say. "I'm just wondering if the Pathfinder has a plan for all this, for Heleus. I mean..."

Jon nodded. "I get what you mean. She's new, untested, untrained. We all got thrown for a loop when Alec Ryder died, but we've scored one with Eos. Like you said, Vet, what good's a plan since we've no idea what Heleus is really like?"

"Adapting to problems as they come up." Vetra rubbed one of her mandibles. "I like that. Reminds me a lot of my old job. Well," she shrugged. "Not like my current one's any different."

"We'll manage. Somehow. That's what Alec Ryder trained me for, and Sara, she's gonna need all the help we can give her right now." Jon lifted the drone of out the mass effect field. "Can't afford to be strangers now, not when everything's at stake."

"You seem to be getting along just fine with the Pathfinder," teased Vetra. "Keeping a close eye on her back on Eos. Raining shots on that kett that managed to get that shot in on her leg... and she did hug you."

Jon felt the heat rise in his face, but managed to keep his voice level. "She... needed support, Vet," he said coolly, wondering how Vetra knew about that last detail. "If I can give it, well..." He shrugged and gestured at her. "Back at you. Anyone in your life right now?"

Vetra's mandibles flapped in mirth, but she kept her observations to herself. For now. "It's just me and Sid. Always been like that, just the two of us, toughing it out."

Jon thumped Vetra gently on the arm. "I know all about Sid, dummy. I mean someone special."

"You mean... oh, nothing like that!" Vetra laughed. "Who has time, with the uprising, and the chaos that followed it all? Maybe once things settle down a little more, though..." Vetra shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Never had anyone before? Back in the Milky Way?"

"Nah. Being a smuggler, you make and lose friends faster than you could count them. Getting close enough to someone to get into a relationship is..." she paused. "Rare. I suppose."

"I hear that." Jon activated his omnitool. "Heads up."

Vetra took a step back as Jon tossed the palm-sized drone into the air. She smiled at the excited "Yes!" that escaped Jon as he watched it zoom around the machine shop, manipulating it with his omnitool.

* * *

Cora Harper opened her eyes.

The stark white-gray ceiling of her Nexus quarters greeted her, very different from the brightly-colored, mural-covered ceiling of _her room back on her parents' freighter, the Dauntless. She grinned as she remembered that Dada promised her to show her how to pilot the freighter today - with a whoop, she threw the tattered covers off, clambering over the edge of the bunk. Several knick-knacks scattered all over the floor as she landed with a thump, dark energy dancing about her feet._

 _"Cora!"_

 _Cora stuck her tongue out at Mama as she sprinted for the bathroom to wash up. She knew Mama didn't really mind her accidental displays of biotic ability - on the contrary, she seemed proud that Cora was able to lift objects without using her hands. She'd told Cora that one day, Cora would be helping her and Dada with the business, lifting the heavy stuff that Dada couldn't carry anymore._

 _Cora was looking forward to that day._

 _She looked at herself in the mirror, beaming from ear to ear as she brushed her teeth. Cold water on her face,_ Cora looked at herself once more in the mirror, noting how the shape of her face had changed, now lean and more well-defined, her hair the biggest difference between then and now. And the eyes - she'd heard an old-Earth saying that the eyes were the windows to the soul. The asari had a phrase for that, too, something far longer and more elaborate than Earth's, but it eluded her now. Something poetic, rhymes easily, smooth like honey mead on the tongue... no, it's gone.

Her eyes. She could see the hurt in them, hurt that she'd never felt when she was a child. The first time she felt that knife in her chest was at the Alliance academy where she underwent biotic training. She'd been instructed to perform simple tasks, like lifting a rock, or batting aside hanging vines using only her biotics, so that the instructors could gauge the level of training she needed.

The satisfaction she felt at managing to rip that Alliance armored personnel carrier into two was dampened at the horror her fellow trainees and some of the instructors showed, obvious on their faces. Add to that the ostracism she suffered after that, no one brave enough to befriend her...

Cora's fist tightened; the polymer cup in which she'd put her toothbrush away crumpling with a loud _crack_. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, reciting a lengthy paragraph from the Siari prayer book, slowly easing the tension she felt, until she could tamp it down. Like she always did.

Mama told her that her biotics was a gift. That she shouldn't be afraid of using them, of even having them. Then why was it everywhere she went she was left out? Cast aside, shunned, nowhere she went did she feel like she belonged? And when she needed them the most, in battle, she'd forgotten to top herself up, a fucking rookie mistake that even Janae, the greenest of the Daughters besides her, would never ever make!

Seamlessly, in her mind, Cora switched over to one of Huntress Theris' combat manuals. _Chapter Seventy Five: Strategies in an Urban Setting_. She kept repeating the opening paragraph to herself until the thoughts seeped from her mind, leaving nothing but the ironclad mindset of a huntress. _Leave all else out. A distraction of but a moment leads to an eternity in the void, your mission a failure for you have failed your sisters._

Cora Harper opened her eyes.

* * *

"Addison told me about the outpost. You're the hero of the hour."

Sara Ryder shook her head, remembering what Addison had told her, what her team had reminded her on their way back here; and her mini-meltdown in front of Jon, that wasn't particularly heroic. Heat suffused her face as she tried to dispel that particular memory, that desperate longing for something solid to cling to. She'd promised Dad that she would be strong, and she dissolved over something as trivial as a lack of respect shown towards her. She could do better than that.

"Let's... hold off on the celebration for now, Director. We haven't found home, not yet," she managed to say.

Now that the shock of being named Pathfinder had worn off, and with her headache during her first meeting with Tann now absent, leaving her clear-minded, she found speaking with Tann not quite the chore that she once thought it was. It was possible that establishing Prodromos had eased the pressure somewhat, though it still hung above Sara, a constant reminder that her job had only just begun.

He was easy to read, Tann was, his body language, his inflection suggesting a highly uneasy, anxious person. The hand-rubbing was a dead giveaway, even to the untrained eye.

She'd checked out Tann's profile earlier before coming to meet him - he was Deputy Assistant for Revenue Management before the Scourge incident. Definitely not leadership material, but here he was, having fallen into the unenviable role of Acting Director after all seven leaders above him perished, including Jien Garson and her second, Matriarch Nuara. A not quite similar, but relatable situation in comparison to Sara's, both of them having fallen into the driver's seat of a vehicle neither of them know how to control.

Tann flapped a hand at Sara, smiling, his tone becoming... honeyed? "Oh, there's no need for modesty, Ryder! Success affords leverage over those who doubted you!"

Ah. He was doing the same thing as Addison was, a few days back. Doubting her from the beginning, then backing her now that they saw that she was the winning horse. Sara smiled wryly. "And does that include you, Director? I'm now your..." Sara cocked her head to a side. "Best friend?"

The words, simple as they were, easily brushed off by anyone who had thick enough skin, struck Tann with the force of a missile: he took a step back before recovering, his smile vanishing. He folded his hands behind his back and approached her, eyes unblinking, mouth turned down at the corners. Sara stared back, a slight smile on her face, surprising herself with the coolness she was feeling, staring into her superior's face.

"A... patron." Tann spoke, haltingly. "One who shares your vision of a prosperous future."

On the other hand, Tann did give her a chance at proving herself, despite all the odds. He didn't ask for Cora to take over. He didn't ask anyone else to become Pathfinder. Sara supposed it had something to do with S.A.M. hardwiring himself into her nervous system, but that was irrelevant right now. She exhaled and dipped her head, conceding Tann's point. She would remind him that she wasn't fooled by the game he and Addison played, but otherwise, their goals aligned: to pave the way for a future for everyone in the Initiative.

"Yes. I suppose... we agree on that much," she said evenly, holding her hands out to the side. "Sorry, Director. I should have remembered you gave me a chance to prove myself."

A spark of something in Tann's eyes - glee? His lip curled, ever so slightly, but Sara caught it nonetheless. "I knew that given a chance, Ryder, your... _talents_ would emerge. Deciphering the vault, alien terraforming..." He half turned, gesturing out the huge window that overlooked the Secondary Ward, still unfinished. "It's not how we imagined all this, but a Pathfinder..." He turned back to look at her. "A... _good_ Pathfinder improvises."

He moved past Sara, motioning at something behind her. Sara turned to follow: the Director was pointing at a set of blank holoscreens mounted on the wall. He brought up his omnitool and tapped at an icon.

He glanced sideways at Sara. "A _great_ Pathfinder? Hangs it on the wall."

Images of Prodromos flashed onto the screens, each a different angle. They were very recent; already three buildings were up, the filtration plant running, bracketed pipes running along the ground and leading into the central building. Sara turned, noting that all the holoscreens within Pathfinder Hall were displaying images of Prodromos and of Eos, rock formations against blue sky.

"Yours are the first trophies to grace Pathfinder Hall. You're a symbol now, Ryder. A reason for people to believe."

"It wouldn't have been possible without my crew, Director. I can't do this all on my own, and they're a talented bunch," she said automatically. It felt right, sharing the triumph; Sara didn't feel as though she was the only one who should be getting the credit. Vetra and Jon, they kept her safe from those Remnant bots; Kallo, Suvi, Gil and Lexi, who crewed the Tempest and provided their expertise over comms; Cora, who was with her at Promise, gently nudging her the right way, showing her what a Pathfinder's being about, sending her info packets to polish up her knowledge.

Tann pointed at Sara. "True, but _you're_ their beacon."

"Careful, or he'll end up adopting you, Pathfinder."

Sara and Tann turned at the flanging voice; Sara acknowledged Director Kandros with a nod and a smile, ditto for Superintendent Kesh who flanked him. Tann, on the other hand, seemed to shrink a little and scowled before arranging his face into a mask.

"Ah, my _staff_." Tann's voice was level but dripped with condescension.

" _Colleagues_ , Tann. You wouldn't be looking to cut us out, would you?" rumbled Kesh.

Tann straightened and tapped his chest. "I remind you: I am the Director of the Initiative."

" _Acting_ Director," emphasized Kandros, eliciting a frown from Tann, who opened his mouth to retort.

"Okay, look," Sara stepped forward, holding her hands out, sensing the tension in the air. "This isn't the time for arguing who gets to be king, alright? Too much is at stake; we should be cooperating, supporting each other so that all of us make it out in the end. Deal?"

Kesh shrugged, the motion making her hump rise and dip slightly. "That's what I've been saying since we arrived here."

Tann cut in, "Then I look forward to winning our Pathfinder's support!" He laid a hand on Sara's shoulder, a too-wide smile on his face. Sara stiffened at the contact, but said nothing.

"I have concerns about your decision on Eos, Ryder. An outpost full of scientists won't do us much good if the kett attack," voiced Kandros, the worry evident on his face, as expected of one who'd tangled with the aliens. Another thing that still plagued Sara: whether or not she'd made the right choice.

"But it will help support the Nexus." Kesh looked over at Kandros. "Improved research could help feed our people."

"Right now, as Superintendent Kesh said, we need all the people and equipment to sort out a farm, Director Kandros," began Sara. "The mayor, August Bradley, is a former N7 operative like my father. He would know how to organize an effective fighting force should the need arise. And not to put too fine a point on it, but the Initiative is a scientific expedition, not an occupying force."

"And we could argue about it all day long, as we always do, but the decision was made - now, we move on," said Tann testily, wanting to close the book. "What is your plan for moving on, Ryder?"

Sara shot an apologetic look at Kandros, who inclined his head, no offense taken. She brought up her omnitool, providing a holo of the Heleus Cluster, as updated by S.A.M. "We have a lead on the terraforming network," she pointed to the active signal that PeeBee had singled out in the vault, a pulsing yellow sphere. "I'll need to take the Tempest deeper into the sector to investigate, find its main, if possible. If the other golden worlds are where they should be, the main could get us closer to them."

"Careful, Pathfinder. The kett are scouring the cluster for this... _Remnant_ technology. You'll end up in a fight for sure," cautioned Kandros, still unused to the new naming convention. "You might also run into exiles."

"They didn't leave the Nexus on good terms," added Kesh. "Most would see you as representing the Nexus. And we still need more outposts; they're important to expanding the station."

"Though with arks still missing..." Tann angled his head at Sara, a hand on his hip. "This could be a chance for you to search for them." Tann stroked his chin. "Yes. I think that's best. You have my permission, Ryder."

 _The arks!_ Sara had forgotten all about them, caught up in the Eos mission. Now, her curiosity was piqued. To find out what happened to the Natanus, Paarchero, and the Leusinia? That was a chance to bring more people and resources back to the Nexus, to bolster the Initiative! And the Tempest could make that jump!

If any of the arks were still in one piece, that was. _But here's to hoping_ , Sara thought. Maybe some positive thinking could do some good.

"Thank you, Director. I'll get right on it."

* * *

"You know I don't like clubs, right, Vetra?" Jon shifted uncomfortably as the turian led him towards the wide-open doors. Even at this distance, he could already feel the throbbing in his chest, some sort of New World music that lets you feel the beat but you ca't hear the music till you're right up close, inside the club proper. Something to do with making you all excited, he read somewhere, ready to kick the party up a notch or two.

He felt apprehensive, not excited.

"Aw, spoilsport. Come on!" Vetra tugged at his wrist. "It's going to be fun!"

Jon dug his heels into the deck and shook his head, pulling away. "Sorry, Vet."

She regarded him with a frown, quiet between them for a moment, an impasse. He looked away, rubbing at the Pathfinder's patch on his left shoulder unconsciously.

Her features softened. "Oh, alright. I'll catch you some other time, then."

He smiled softly and gave her a small wave before leaving Vortex's entrance hall, almost stumbling in his haste. He felt bad for leaving Vetra alone to enjoy the club, but he really didn't want to go in there.

"Hey, that patch... he's on the Pathfinder team!"

Jon walked quickly, back straight, heading for somewhere, anywhere, that wasn't as packed with people. He'd always hated crowds, didn't like being in close proximity with so many other people, the heat, the smell, the uncomfortable sensation that he was being boxed in, trapped. He cursed his decision to attach that patch to his Initiative jacket - it was a dumb move, letting people identify him so easily.

But it was Sara who gave him the patch personally, presenting it to him just before they'd docked with the Nexus. It was unthinkable to _not_ accept it, but it still felt off, being part of the team without an implant in the back of his neck. Then again, Vetra, Drack and PeeBee all didn't have implants - Drack was pretty vocal about having S.A.M. linked to his comm unit and not in his head, not unlike Jon's own disagreement with Alec Ryder.

That cheered him up a little.

Jon flushed as he remembered Sara's stiff, stumbling words, acknowledging him as a full-fledged member of the team, her fingers brushing his, electric, as he accepted the patch from her. Her hug back in the conference room, while unexpected, was welcome, her warm weight against him feeling... what was that word?

 _"No, don't."_

 _A warm hand around his wrist, seizing it as though it was a lifeline, tugging slightly. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes on the smooth surface of the conference room's floor, before he turned, his heart in his throat. Sara dragged the sleeve of her dark green hoodie across her eyes, then smiled at him, a sad sort of smile: was she glad that he listened to her, stayed?_

 _Sara's cerulean eyes on him, sparkling from the tears, her grip on his wrist loosening but still there, thumb and index and middle fingers light on his skin. He could feel the slim digits trembling, Sara's frame shaking ever so slightly, noticeable only because he was looking for the sign._

 _It occurred to him that he could see her face in exquisite detail. The high cheekbones, the too-wide mouth. There were several freckles on her face, three close together on her right cheek, the others widely dispersed over her wide forehead and chin. She reached up to brush a rogue lock of hair from her face, her long cinnamon-brown ponytail-tied hair adding to the melancholy on her face, giving her a look that was far younger than the twenty-two she was._

 _Jon could feel his pulse in his fingertips, his heart pounding. Why was he feeling like this? Why was he noticing all these details about Sara? Should he try and comfort her? But what was he supposed to say? He'd said everything, got all that fire in his chest out!_

And then the hug, Sara pushing forward before his mind could make itself up, burying her face in his chest, her arms around his torso. She even tightened her grip, almost pulling herself into him, before her warmth kicked his brain back into action, hugging her back tentatively, unsure.

It felt like... Jon pondered that for a moment, replaying the scene in his head. _His hands light on Sara's back, patting her gently as he told her everything was going to be okay._ It felt... like she trusted him. A lot. Even though they'd barely met, barely knew each other as colleagues, or even friends. He followed her lead because it was the right thing to do, her being the Pathfinder now. But how to explain how that hug felt...

 _Right_ , he realized, coming to a stop, shielding his eyes from the glare with a hand. _She hugged me, and it felt_ right. How to explain that?

He couldn't recall the last time he received such an intimate gesture. At least, not from someone of the opposite gender. Ka'aira, nope, never. Lavi - wait, now he could. Heat in his face as he recalled that one time...

He looked up. The Hydroponic Gardens - no wonder it was so quiet, so peaceful, a respite from the thoughts in his head at present.

He placed his hands lightly on the rail, trailing them along the polished metal as he strolled, quiet conversations around him, the faint rush of a breeze playing through the vivid green leaves of the trees above him, the chirping of birds - he paused for a moment, looking around for the small creatures flitting from branch to branch, only to realize the sounds were probably recordings to add to the atmosphere of the place -

He blinked as he realized he had just thought about Lavi and Ka'aira without the corresponding horrors that he'd endured. He'd remembered them as they were, two wonderful women who'd changed his life, let him feel something that he never thought he'd got to experience. He stood still, the memories pushing at his mind, before he steeled himself, took a deep breath.

 _They may be gone, but the happy times, focus on them_ , he told himself. _Remember what it's like, to be happy_. Strangely, it was easier than he'd tried before, with the fresh memory of Sara at the forefront of his mind, a tingling of his fingers as they loosened, him looking up at the artificial blue sky, the artificial sun's warmth on his cheeks.

* * *

 _Jon glanced over at the quarian. She didn't seem to notice that he was looking at her instead of the vid playing on her omnitool, lying on the stool that he'd borrowed from Supplies earlier, a short distance away from his bunk on which they were sitting on right now. Her legs were folded under her, her three-fingered hands clasped together, watching the scene intently._

 _He wondered how it was that she'd gotten so comfortable around him that she could be here right now, on his bunk, in the deserted barracks, the other personnel out in the mess hall having a card game. He was off-duty, and had already checked and prepped his gear, so it's not like he had anything much to do anyway. He stiffened as she shifted next to him, unconsciously moving a tiny bit closer to him._

 _The vid wasn't helping much. It was a hit, according to her, a romance flick starring a turian and a quarian, and that she'd watched it three times and still never got tired of it. He wondered if Lavi'Nara was aware of the implications her actions were producing, of the effect that those implications were having on him. His heart was in his throat as he blinked, trying to focus on Bellicus who -_

Shit. _Bellicus and Shalei were holding hands on a Citadel balcony. Jon stared at his knees for a bit, feeling uncomfortable. He'd never spent time in female company this long before, and he had to admit, Lavi's slim frame and sunny disposition were certainly very appealing to him..._

It's wrong, so plain wrong _, he chided himself._ You only knew her a couple of weeks!

 _And yet._

 _"_ But, Shalei, we can never be together. I have my duty, and you have your people, _" Lavi murmured, her hands tightening, just as Bellicus said the same line onscreen. Shalei moved closer to Bellicus, her hand coming up to cup his cheek._

 _"No, Bellicus," she whispered. "Tonight, I am as free as dust in the solar wind."_

 _Back on Earth, Jon would have rolled his eyes. Now, he felt his pulse speeding up. Back when they were just becoming acquainted with one another, he'd asked, a little cheekily, if Lavi had anyone special in her life, and she'd replied with that exact same sentence, looking a little melancholic as she did, an unspoken pain in her voice that he'd never had the nerve to ask about._ So that's where she got the line from!

 _"_ Bellicus. I want you to see behind this mask. I want you to see who I truly am, _" Lavi whispered next to him. Her hands came apart, her fingers tightening on the sheets, scrunching up the white fabric. Onscreen, Shalei and Bellicus were growing ever closer, gazing deeply into each other's eyes. His voice was low, husky, as he murmured, "Shalei, I already have."_

 _A sharp intake of breath from Lavi as Shalei reached up and, with a hiss, took her mask off, allowing Bellicus to gaze upon her face in all of its beauty. Jon swallowed._

 _She looked over at him and smiled when the credits began to roll. "How'd you find it, Jonathan?" Her awkward attempt at pronouncing his name was lost on him as Jon cleared his throat, the heat still in his face._

 _He coughed. "It was... wow," he managed._

 _"So brave, isn't she?" breathed Lavi. "She loves him so much, she's willing to take her mask off to let him see her face! Sometimes, I wish I was her," she grumbled as she retrieved her omnitool, sliding it back over her left forearm. "I never had anyone who looked at me twice, let alone ask me out. But maybe out here, things will be different!"_

 _"Maybe," he mumbled._

* * *

Jon chuckled to himself as he recalled that particular memory. Such a wreck he was, that Lavi couldn't understand him for ten minutes as he struggled to pretend that he enjoyed the movie, nothing was wrong. In the end they'd resorted to laughing off the whole thing and carrying on, but he'd caught the split-second, meaningful glances she'd thrown his way when she thought he wasn't looking.

So she did know exactly what she was doing that night... maybe he could find happiness here too, much like Lavi did by leaving her insular Fleet.

 _Andromeda..._ He tilted his head back to look at the clouds above, throwing his arms over the back of the bench. Lexi's therapy sessions had been very helpful, very effective, bringing him out of that deep, dark pit that he was in. Minutes ago he had been dissecting, in minute detail, Sara's hug, then recalling how he and Lavi first realized they had feelings for each other... not a single thought about blood, or death, the two most prevalent things in his past.

What a far cry from the first months after joining the Initiative! He avoided everyone and spoke only to Kesh, then trained exclusively with Alec Ryder for twenty hours daily to drown out the demons that lurked in every fold of his mind, too tired to even think. Granted, he still had nightmares from time to time... but they were getting fewer and fewer in number, which surprised him; and the images in his mind's eye were getting less and less vivid, too, allowing him peaceful sleep for the first time in many years.

 _Happiness, huh?_ Anywhere's going to be lonely if one doesn't have anyone to share it with. New Canton was made bearable thanks to Ches and Ka'aira. Akuze, thanks to Lavi. Here, Andromeda...?

Ka'aira. Lavi'Nara. _Sara Ryder?_

He blinked as it dawned upon him, a door to a realm of possibility opening before his mind's eye.

* * *

"Hey, kiddo."

A torpedo down the length of Communications. "VETRAAAA!"

Vetra grinned and braced herself, letting the smallish form of her younger sister - for a turian, anyway - barrel right into her. She hugged her back, feeling the strength in Sid's arms - _spirits, she'll crush me one day_ \- and thumped her on the shoulder.

"How are things?"

Sidera Nyx was bouncing from excitement, her eyes bright. "Forget about boring old me, let's talk about _you_! How was the mission? What's the Pathfinder like? I was monitoring you the whole way there, Eos is so far out! Did you meet any aliens?"

Vetra chuckled. "You're off-duty now, aren't you?"

Sid's chin blurred. "Just. I have thirty six hours off."

"Then let's get something to eat, and I'll tell you all about it."


	27. Trail

"Engines are go for launch, Pathfinder," reported Kallo.

"Datastores updated. There's a whole lot of new info on Eos and the Heleus Cluster!" Suvi bounced in her seat, eliciting a smile from Sara. "Can't wait to get more, learning about our new home!"

"Well, we'll get the opportunity soon enough, Suvi, so hold on to your seat," Sara jokingly pointed to Suvi's couch. "This time, we're hitting the unknown. Eos was on the Nexus' scans, but this new signal is a complete blank."

"That's mainly due to the Scourge, Pathfinder," added Kallo. "A whole lot of it. I'll try to steer us clear."

"Your best, that's all we're asking for, Kallo," Sara nodded at the salarian. She touched a holo on the Pathfinder's console, opening a shipwide comm, and cleared her throat. "Ah... attention, Tempest crew, our mission is a go. How copy, everyone?"

" _Took you long enough!_ " came the reply from Engineering.

"Let's go, let's go!" PeeBee poked her head out from the escape pod room, thumping the door frame twice and grinning at Sara. "The Remnant aren't going to wait to discover themselves, you know!"

" _Medical up and running, Sara._ "

" _Vetra here. I'm easy._ "

"Pathfinder's second reporting in," said Cora, striding up behind Sara and giving her a sharp nod, hands behind her back.

" _All good here, Ryder._ "

"Jon?" asked Sara as several seconds passed without input from the combat engineer. The silence stretched for a moment before Dr. T'Perro's voice came over the comm once more. " _He's asleep, Pathfinder, in the crew quarters. I recommend we allow him to rest. He's been helping the Superintendent on the Nexus._ "

"Alright, then." Sara nodded at Kallo, swiping at her console and tapping their destination, that ping, that pulsing orb of light that PeeBee had pointed out back in the Eos vault. A trail of hope, left behind by God-knows-who, and they're going to pursue it.

It was their only lead, after all. In this hostile, new galaxy.

The Tempest rose, retracting its landing gear and rotating neatly as Sara waved at the small gaggle of people who'd come to see them off. As the survey ship began true forward flight, Sara turned to leave the bridge, the console sliding into the floor.

"I'm going aft, Kallo. Keep me posted."

"Understood, Pathfinder."

* * *

Jon opened his eyes, feeling the vibrations under him, and smiled. _Good. On the move again._ He lay there for a bit, savoring the comfortable warmth that was his bunk and sheets, his phones piping the sounds of falling rain into his ears, something he'd came to miss when he left Earth.

The Tempest came with four bunks in the crew quarters, meaning that they were supposed to hotbunk, but Jon believed a system like that only worked if they were on a larger ship, with more people assigned to the same tasks, working in shifts, so everyone had downtime. Here, on the Tempest, things were different: PeeBee had set up shop in the escape pods - Jon wondered at that - while Drack was content to sleep in the galley, oddly enough. Lexi told Jon that she'd been sleeping on one of the medbay beds - quietly confiding in him that it was far more comfortable than any bed the Initiative had - while Vetra had her own foldaway bed in the tech lab. Ditto for Gil, who seemed to live and breathe starship engineering, spending all of his time in the rear of the Tempest, even taking his meals there.

That left himself, Kallo, Dr. Suvi, and Lieutenant Harper - exactly the number of bunks in the quarters, which meant this bunk he was in was his and his alone - a pleasant thought. He liked his privacy, to just lie back and think, to figure things out like how Lexi taught him to, those therapy sessions of hers. While he was beginning to get to know the others a little better, he was still cautious, still maintaining a respectful distance, not because he didn't like them - to the contrary, as he found Kallo and Suvi very agreeable and easy to talk to despite their differences, and Gil a little gruff but alright.

It was just that, given his past of people around him dying a lot, he tended to want to stay alone. It was something he had to work through, Lexi had told him. It's not because of him that people died - it was the circumstances at the time, the environment, not some superstition that he was the harbinger of doom...

He thought he'd had the fresh start he wanted, coming here to Andromeda. Keep things professional, show up when Alec Ryder summoned him, keep himself in fighting shape, and maybe, just maybe, the fates would be kind enough to him this time that he would finally be free of the shadow that kept looming over him, death, give him a shot at living a normal life on one of the golden worlds...

 _And then what?_

Jon came up short on that. He'd never thought much about life after the golden worlds had been colonized, focusing intently as he did on the trailblazing side of things. Maybe that was what Lexi saw in him in one of their therapy sessions, remembering that one time Lexi asked him about what he wanted to do after the Pathfinder team's mission was officially over. She'd patted his arm when he couldn't reply, his mind buzzing at the thought of the team's mission even being over, but now that he thought about it, Lexi had a point. Everything had a beginning and an end, including missions.

He supposed he'd begun to make inroads on that before Habitat Seven, noticing that 'blue-eyed, brown-haired girl' in the cryo bay and wanting to talk to her. Funny how things turned out, throwing everything he'd begun to plan right out the damn airlock...

Jon stretched and drew the curtain aside, light spilling into the confines of his bunk, reluctant to leave the comfort of his sheets. But he needed to prep, if the signal turned out to be another vault like Eos', they'd probably have to fight through kett and Remnant bots again. He shivered at the cool air, goosebumps rising on his skin, before grabbing his towel and heading for the showers.

As water cascaded over his shoulders, the warmth spreading throughout his body and soul, Jon began sifting through his mind, shuttering irrelevant thought processes, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead. Though Eos was their first official mission in the Andromeda Galaxy, they knew a lot about the troubled planet before they even set foot on it, a great deal of data gathered from the earlier expeditions and Nexus scans. Now, they were hurtling towards the unknown. That signal they found back in the vault, was it another vault on another planet? A satellite? Or just some random asteroid, hurtling as they were, through cold, dark space?

The thought that there were even more vaults out there, forming a huge terraforming network throughout the Heleus Cluster, was mind-boggling. If not the kett, then just _who_ created the whole thing? Could it be that the same aliens _created_ these planets? _Who has that sort of power, to actually create a whole planet?_ Jon never believed in gods, but in the face of revelations like these, he found it difficult to accept that mortals are capable of this level of creation.

 _Well..._ He shrugged to himself and brushed his wet hair out of his eyes; there was no point in speculating, since they were on the way over to that signal now; they'll find out in due time just what it was, to be exact. And if the kett were waiting for them...

He smiled tightly and clenched his fist.

* * *

 _Her eyes narrowed, almost to slits, as if by doing so she could gauge just what her opponent was up to, circling like this. She moved as her opponent moved, remembering Cora's lessons back before they made the journey:_ stay in motion, keep them guessing your next move _._

 _The weight of the asari sword in her right hand felt just right, her fingers fitting perfectly around the hilt, a light grip so that she could switch from slashing to stabbing at a moment's notice - though she preferred slashing, what with the length of the sword and all; it's not exactly a standard-issue Alliance combat blade._

 _Sara Ryder sucked in a breath; they'd been at it for an hour or so, and so far she'd received a couple of scratches to her armor: three on her torso, one on the right arm, two on her left thigh. But she herself was no slouch: the opponent sported a huge gash across the stomach and a nick to the helmet. The opponent's faceplate was tinted completely, a disadvantage: Sara would be unable to discern the next move by facial expressions._

 _That was another one of Cora's tips:_ their eyes often give away where they will strike next _._

 _So Sara had to resort to watching the opponent's body movements, which was easier said than done. Her opponent was a skilled one, that's for sure - one thing Sara knew about the opponent was that she was a human female. That... was it, really. The War Games was impartial that way - you enter the sim and get paired up randomly with another participant. No details about the opponent was known to each participant - making the practice session feel like actual combat._

 _She managed to last this long, though, and that was... a good thing? Sara wasn't quite sure how she managed - she and her opponent were both somewhat equally matched in the art of asari swordfighting, and biotics. Their sparring match had been fraught with biotic use, and Sara was beginning to feel the strain, the ache in her muscles as her body cried out for nutrition._

 _But she couldn't give up now. Not while she and her opponent were both still on their feet, the match unconcluded. Dad always taught her to never back down, and she wasn't going to be cowed by this opponent of hers!_

 _Sara smiled behind her own tinted faceplate and twitched her sword hand, a feint. The opponent didn't react at all, still maintaining her crouched pose, her sword held away from her body. Sara wondered if she could end the match right here and now with a single biotic blink, dashing across the empty space and stabbing with the sword; the last two times she'd tried it, the opponent nimbly skipped out the way, though the second time Sara managed to nick her helmet, so in theory she could damage the opponent badly enough for the sim to declare her opponent 'killed'..._

 _Sweat slid down her forehead, over her cheekbones. An uncomfortable warmth had begun to saturate Sara's training armor; the scenario they were in was deep jungle, in a clearing, and the simulated humidity was actually fooling her brain into thinking that she was in the real thing. The branches of the nearby trees creaked occasionally, faint sounds of animals and birds in the distance, green vegetation swaying ever so slightly in a simulated breeze._

 _Sara nearly started when the opponent made a sudden move, drawing her sword arm in and angling the point Sara's way. She responded in kind, thrusting her left hand out, palm towards the opponent, continuing their silent circling. Their boots almost made no noise on the ground, the sight of small puffs of dust coming from under her opponent's boots making Sara feel the dryness in her throat, and she promised herself after this, she'd get herself a tall glass of water._

 _A drop of sweat fell directly into her right eye. Sara blinked, keeping her eyes on -_

 _Let her left leg crumple under her, the sword singing through the air, the blade narrowly missing her - Sara could see a sliver of her face in the polished metal - and brought her right leg around, trapping her opponent's leg between her thigh and calf, continuing the move, pushing her body forward, using her weight to bring her opponent down._

 _It dawned on Sara, as she executed two perfect wrestling rolls, her opponent tumbling with her, that the opponent had used the technique she'd been thinking about. And she struck exactly when Sara was blinking the sweat out her eye - how? Her own faceplate was tinted too!_

Never mind that _\- she had her opponent on the ground now, rising above her. Sara brought her palm down on her opponent's chest, violet energies swirling around her hand as she pinned her opponent down with her biotics, her sword pointed at her opponent's throat, her arm tense. A single thrust, that was all that was needed to sever the carotid, and her opponent would be too busy bleeding out too fight her..._

 _"Yield," she panted._

 _The opponent's faceplate cleared, the tint fading away. Cora Harper chuckled, bringing her hands up in surrender. "Okay, Pathfinder, you got me. Now, how about -"_

Her hands are empty!

 _Too late, Sara realized she'd fallen for the ploy. A dull thud on the back of her helmet, her moment of hesitation costing her, the pommel of Cora's sword thumping into it by virtue of her biotics. Sara's world tilted as Cora pushed her off easily and swept her feet out from under her, smacking hard into the dusty jungle floor, fingers scrabbling for her dropped sword -_

 _Her limbs seized up, as if they'd been manacled; Sara tried, but none of her limbs responded, encased in an steel grip, purple-blue biotic energy tying her down. Cora looked down at Sara and brought her sword point down on Sara's chest, scratching the thin plate._

 _"Good try, Pathfinder. Yield."_

 _Sara sighed in defeat, letting her helmeted head fall back, ordering her muscles to relax. Her hand was nowhere near her sword, and even if she'd managed to grasp it, had Cora been a real enemy, she would have already stabbed Sara in the heart. Game over. Dead._

 _She slapped the floor twice, the indicator for a yield._

* * *

"So what you're saying is..."

" _Sara may be able to use these profiles, Doctor T'Perro. But there is an increased risk of serious tissue and organ damage._ "

Lexi T'Perro sighed. "Alec, why did you have to make things so _complicated_?" she murmured, an infopane in front of her, displaying Sara Ryder's physical attributes and overall health condition. She'd been crunching the numbers, doing the math, making sure that S.A.M.'s integration with the new Pathfinder went smoothly.

From the get-go, it was anything but.

It was obvious from the scans that Sara had some neuron damage from the transfer, but nothing that the nanos couldn't fix. Lexi had been more worried about the young Ryder suffering a hemorrhagic stroke from the exertion - her blood pressure had been staggeringly high when they wheeled her in, thrashing about - but so far her cerebral arteries appear to be intact. The fact that Alec had been dying slowly while it was in progress all but ensured that some complications _would_ arise, especially when S.A.M. had to retract all sensory algorithms from the original Pathfinder's implant while simultaneously inserting them into Sara's, plus a dozen or more other processes that Lexi was still trying to make sense of, the current one of which was the 'profile system' that Alec had used back on Habitat Seven to mow a path through the kett...

She'd known that S.A.M. could enhance Alec's already-formidable skills, turning him into a literal one-man army, able to move within the enemy's ranks with superhuman speed, tearing them apart before they could realize that a lone soldier was responsible for all the carnage. She knew that S.A.M. enhanced the Pathfinder's physiology, in ways that she was still trying to interpret, even with her decades of experience in human biology, pushing him beyond the limits of a normal human body in order to keep him alive through a tough spot.

But Lexi never knew just how far Alec had gone, actually _subclassifying_ that superhuman agility and strength into 'profiles,' his word for them. She flipped through the infopanes, her frown deepening as she perused the sample videos that he'd helpfully left for her, his black-and-red form tearing through simulated ranks of enemies with terrifying efficiency, much like how the humans' phagocytes devour bacteria.

Only here, there was a single, invincible phagocyte killing all of that hapless bacteria...

"So these profiles are to be used in specific combat conditions, as tailored to Alec's fighting style?"

" _Affirmative, Doctor T'Perro._ "

"Let's ignore the trauma that Sara would suffer if she chose to use one. What would happen?"

" _At this point, Doctor, more harm would befall the Pathfinder than good. She does not have the combat experience of Alec and would thus be unable to fully comprehend the abilities that these profiles could give her, much less utilize them to their full potential. In that moment that Sara is attempting to orient herself with the profile, she would be open to enemy attack._ "

"What would you do, Sam, if it were your choice whether or not to give Sara these profiles to use?" sighed Lexi, leaning back into her seat and closing her eyes. _Damn it, Alec. Handing over something as powerful as that to your daughter. What in the goddess' name were you thinking?_

" _I would suggest locking away the profiles until Sara is ready to use them, Doctor T'Perro, using Alec's performances as a baseline. In the meanwhile, should the Pathfinder require a physiological boost in the field, I would be happy to oblige._ "

Lexi cast a puzzled glance at the miniature avatar of S.A.M. on her desktop. " _Happy to oblige_ , Sam?"

" _It is a phrase I've picked up from the Pathfinder. Am I using it incorrectly, Doctor?_ "

Lexi shook her head incredulously, a chuckle escaping her. "No, Sam, you got it right. I'm just surprised, that's all. In any case, I concur with your assessment. Does Sara know about these... profiles?"

" _Negative, Doctor T'Perro._ "

"Good. Keep it that way, and lock them down for now, on my authority as the Pathfinder team's medical officer."

" _Done, Doctor T'Perro._ "

* * *

Ka'aira. Lavi'Nara.

Sara Ryder?

 _He blinked as it dawned upon him, a door to the realm of possibility opening before his mind's eye. Weightless as he pondered it, his surroundings falling away..._

 _... and promptly, he sat himself back down heavily onto the bench, his thought dissipating like smoke in wind. He shook his head and snorted, grounding himself in reality. It sounded stupid, even to himself, now that he thought about it. Sara Ryder, really? Someone he could find happiness with here in the Andromeda Galaxy? Sara Ryder, someone he'd barely known for a month or so, daughter to the Alliance legend Alec Ryder? Sara Ryder, the current Pathfinder and only hope the Initiative had to survive in this hostile new place it found itself in?_

Yeah, right. _He'd have a better chance at winning at a round of Kepesh-Yakshi against an asari! How could he have these thoughts, what with Sara being way out of his league, him just a combat engineer and she a freaking Pathfinder?_

 _Jon inhaled and released his breath slowly, his eyes closed, letting the incredulity he felt drain away. Thinking about this, about Sara, was getting him nowhere; his priority was still to uphold the mission, the only thing he should be focusing on right now. He opened his eyes and gazed intently at a pattern of sunlight on the grey floor, watching it shift and shimmer as the breeze played with the leaves above him, until his mind cleared of all the clutter he'd been thinking about in the past twenty minutes, retreating back into that calm, relaxed feeling of being in the peaceful Hydroponic Gardens aboard the Nexus, currently within the Zheng He system..._

 _He'd smiled when he found out that the system they were in was named after the famed Ming Dynasty mariner. The elders back in New Canton spoke of him often - even if the mariner himself had passed from this realm way before Jon had been around, in the 1450s - spinning tales to the young ones like himself that the brave explorer had most probably stepped on the very land that they themselves were stepping on now, the historicity of it! Jon had scoffed at the notion - as did almost every other kid there - but sometimes, as he lay awake at night in the gang's bunkhouse, staring out the roughly-hewn window at the stars and moon above he'd wonder at the possibility of it, that the stars he was looking at now were the very same ones Zheng He had laid eyes on?_

 _He'd no idea who his biological parents were - was it wrong to take it step further and fantasize that Zheng He may even be his_ ancestor _? Ches had ruffled his hair and affectionately called him an idiot, but later shrugged and told him, "Why not?"_

 _And the Nexus had named three other planets within the system after the mariner's navigators: Fei Xin, Gong Zhen, and Ma Huan..._

 _Jon looked up. He'd wandered, just as his mind had wandered, out of the Hydroponic Gardens. This part of the Nexus was built just like the Citadel's Presidium, the 'ceiling' covered in holoscreens projecting an image of the same blue sky he'd been admiring back in the Gardens, long pedways along the 'walls', multi-tiered, leading to various other places on the Nexus. The pedway he was on led all the way down to the Cultural Center, passing three tram stations, two apartment blocks and several shops, all of which remained shuttered. For now, at least._

 _Only a few people were walking along the same pedway he was on, their white-and-blue jumpsuits standing out against the metal-grey of the floor. Now that they were on shore leave, having some time off to recharge, Jon could appreciate the Nexus better than the hasty glances he'd given his surroundings earlier, having to deal with emergencies. And he was grateful for the small number of personnel that were currently out of cryo - he remembered getting stuck in foot traffic back on the Citadel, an experience he hoped he would never have to endure here on the Nexus. He could see the Tempest a little ways ahead and below him, getting worked on by dock crews - he smiled to himself as he remembered his contribution to the Nexus, giving up his designated Nexus apartment so that someone else could have it, someone who needed it more than he did._

 _He slept on the Tempest: a bunk was all he needed, thanks to the years of living with only the bare essentials._

 _Another thing he noticed - with his limited interaction with Nexus personnel, anway - was the lack of social classes here. Granted, maybe it was too early for those to start popping up, but Jon appreciated not being called a slum rat for once like his Alliance peers did, making the epithet sound as demeaning as possible. He found it bitterly ironic to be ridiculed - most of the ridiculers were spacers, humans who were never born on Earth, or even stepped foot on the humans' homeworld, and here they were treating him, an actual Earthborn, like he was less than dirt. On the Nexus, though, he'd worked alongside some of Kesh's engineers, who never once asked where he was from, merely nodding in approval at the job he was doing..._

 _Jon wondered if his rambling thoughts were a good thing. Lexi didn't mention anything about that in their therapy sessions, and he'd never had his mind drift like that before..._

 _It was precisely because of that, him ensconced deep within his ruminations, that he found himself going red and apologizing profusely while helping the asari to her feet, having walked straight into her._

* * *

 _"It was a good match, Sara. Remember: you can split your energies to fully immobilize your opponents. Don't just pin them down by their torsos, they can still use their arms."_

 _Sara smiled ruefully and poked at her food. "No better way to learn than to have my method turned against me."_

 _Cora shrugged and took a gulp of juice. "Better now, in a sim, than an actual combat situation."_

 _The mess hall - if you could call it that - just off the main Operations area, wasn't exactly teeming with personnel. Sara surmised it was once a storage area, hastily cleared out, tables and benches installed along with food pack dispensers so Ops staff could have a quick meal before heading back to their stations. She and Cora were topping themselves up before another training session later, at Cora's insistence - she'd scheduled the sessions when she learned that Sara received an injury while on Eos._

 _Not that Sara was complaining - she didn't have to listen to either Tann or Addison for a while, at least. She inferred that Cora was trying to make up for being absent during their foray into the Eos vault, overstraining herself while running on empty, but the intensity with which Cora was running the sims seemed... excessive. Even for Cora._

 _Sara was unsure if she should bring the matter up. Cora seemed kind of distant these days, and a quick chat with Dr. T'Perro revealed why: even though Cora had promised that she'd help keep the mission going as Sara's second, she was still hurt at what she perceived as a slight on Dad's part, passing the Pathfinder mantle onto Sara rather than Cora. Sara thought they'd cleared that up before the Eos mission, but it seemed like things weren't so quick to calm just yet..._

 _Sara couldn't claim to understand Cora's position, since she'd never been in the same situation before. She was content being a simple marine corporal back in the Alliance, not really keen on rising through the ranks like Dad did, so she'd never had a moment where she'd been passed up for promotion and felt resentment at that. But she could try, at least, to begin to understand, and to do that, she needed to delve a little into Cora's past life, from before Sara knew her, gain her trust, learn more about her second than just her being part of Talein's Daughters._

 _A few questions popped into Sara's head, forming on her tongue. Idle chat, she hoped, things that Cora found okay to talk about, and of course she'd to prepare for the counter-questions as well. She opened her mouth to speak._

 _"Say, Pathfinder, I've something to discuss with you, if that's okay," said Cora, fingering her fringe. She lifted her chin slightly, her eyes fixed at a point behind Sara's back. Sara closed her mouth and snuck a look behind her shoulder: Jon and Vetra were seating themselves down a couple of tables down, oblivious to their presence, Vetra saying something and gesturing with her talons._

Jon _. Sara felt the heat suffuse her face as she recalled the hug. She hadn't spoken to Jon since then, and wondered what he was up to while they were here, on shore leave -_

 _"It's about Walker."_

 _Sara blinked and tried to shutter her thoughts. "W-what about him?" she replied casually, hoping that Cora didn't notice her trembling hand dropping her fork onto the table._

 _"Do you trust him?"_

* * *

"Lieutenant." Jon came to attention as she entered the quarters, the door sliding shut behind her. She nodded in reply. "Walker. How are you holding up?"

"I'm wealthy, thanks," Jon smiled a little. "Raring to go, actually."

"Good to hear, Specialist." Cora palmed the control to her footlocker and poked about inside. "We might be seeing more action soon, and I'll need you prepped."

"Already am, ma'am, even before we took off from the Nexus." Jon drew the curtains across the front of his bunk and reached for his D.S.E. helmet, lying on a shelf beside his bunk. "Just tweaking and rechecking my gear, and the Pathfinder's. Thank you for your approval, by the way."

Cora smiled over her shoulder. "It's a good call, Walker. Though a lot of people are going to give Sara hell for it, but I understand the need. Plus, it's probably what Alec would have wanted."

"I don't know about that, lieutenant. Just looking out for the Pathfinder, that's all, and Ryder's armor... well." Jon shrugged.

"Does Sara know about it yet?" asked Cora.

"She's probably going to, soon. She never had the time to check her armor when we were on the Nexus. Must have been brain-melting, all those discussions with the top brass."

"You don't know half of it, Walker," Cora shook her head and sniffed. "Count yourself lucky you don't have to attend those meetings."

"Aye aye, ma'am. Loud and clear, and grateful. I'll be in the prep room."

Cora relaxed as soon as the door slid shut behind Walker. There was something off about the combat engineer, she knew, but what exactly, she couldn't place her finger on it. He seemed pretty... normal. But she'd gone through his file once again, and those redactions just seemed to scream at her that Walker was hiding something big from all of them, something that Alec himself locked away. And he wasn't supposed to be on the team - Liam Kosta was, but Alec made the switch without her knowledge, Kosta getting booted to Ops on the Nexus, while Walker was placed on 'standby', due to the original Pathfinder team having all slots full...

Granted, Kosta failed a major component of the Pathfinder training - Cora had checked the records and reviewed the training footage. It was a difficult decision - _a sadistic choice_ , to quote Alec - in which lives would be lost in either case, modeled after an old-Earth training scenario - the Maru Incident. Kosta had folded under the immense pressure and somehow made the incident _worse_ , 'killing' nearly all of the 'civilians' involved.

It was odd, Alec letting Kosta go. He was Pathfinder team material, with his broad background in law enforcement, engineering and crisis response. And in his place was Walker...

Cora straightened and shut her footlocker. She wasn't there to pick something up; she'd paid the quarters an unannounced visit, to catch Walker in the act of... doing whatever it was that he was up to, and he wasn't fazed at all by her visit. Either he was really innocent...

... or he was _that_ good at keeping a poker face. Cora bit her lip and wondered. Then she realized - Lexi was just across from her. She should ask the doc a little about Walker, see if she could glean anything new.

* * *

"What...?"

Sara reached a hand out, her fingers nearly touching the armor plating. She'd forgotten to check her armor while they'd been on the Nexus, occupied as she was by Pathfinder... duties? Stuff? Of which inane meetings with Addison and Tann topped the list. Dad would have disapproved of her sloppiness, even with the bureaucracy she had to deal with to pacify the two clashing Directors, knowing him - _ready at a moment's notice_ was his favorite line.

Quite suddenly, she'd became everyone's _friend_ , in Tann's own words; people clamoring for an audience with the Pathfinder, some wanting something from her - a blessing, a small favor, things like that - or just wanting to catch a glimpse of her. And each time, the ridiculous factor seemed to double or triple! Invitations to celebratory parties, packaged gifts laid before the Pathfinder V.I. in the Cultural Center, as if it was a pedestal and she a god - didn't help that the Pathfinder V.I. now bore her likeness and a short soundbite on how she became Pathfinder - and worst of all, a fucking _marriage proposal_ , of all the things!

It was a relief, really, to finally wrap things up and return to the Tempest, to continue the Pathfinding and leaving all that nonsense behind. And now, here she stood, gaping at the armor that was in her locker. It definitely wasn't the one that she'd worn down to Habitat Seven and Eos, the standard explorer's armor. It was sleek, better-looking, the underarmor now sporting a foldable collar that Sara surmised didn't just add a layer of warmth but was also armored. The paint scheme was the standard Initiative white-blue, with one difference.

Sara ran her fingers over the N7 logo on the chestpiece's left breast.

"Oh. Hey."

Sara spun. Jon stood in the doorway, looking sheepish, his helmet under his arm. "Guess you uh..." He halfheartedly gestured at the armor in Sara's locker before holding his hands up in a 'what-can-you-do' manner. "Surprise?"

Sara's eyes widened as she looked between the armor and Jon, her mind trying to and failing to make the connection. "Wait... Jon, what's this?"

Jon set his helmet on top of his locker and approached her. "Remember what I said about finding better armor for you? Well, I did..." He looked fondly at the armor in Sara's locker before his eyes clouded over, such a subtle change that Sara almost didn't catch it. "But it took a lot of convincing, so many people were against the idea. And even more coaxing when I requested that it was repainted a different color."

"Jon, you're making no sense."

Jon backed a step away. "Oh. Sorry. Well, how about this?"

He reached past her and passed her a helmet. Sara took it in her hands and flipped it over, brushing her thumb across the N7 logo on the side, and immediately the dots connected, a synapse firing. _This_ helmet saved her life back on Habitat Seven, even if it was a different color. The same helmet that Dad took off his head and put on hers as she was choking on the toxins in the air. The same helmet she'd held in her hands as she mourned Dad's passing, pressing her forehead against the plastiglass.

"Jon, is this... _Dad's armor_?"

He nodded. "Alec Ryder's N7 Pathfinder armor, designed specially by the Villa for him. The best of the best..." He looked down at his boots. "And now it's yours, Sara."

Sara's mouth fell open. _This is - was - Dad's armor?!_

"I had to call in a favor, talk to someone I knew who knows armors to get them to modify it to fit you." Jon scuffed his boot against the floor. "I... hope you don't mind that I didn't consult you on this, Sara, but you were so busy talking to the Council, saving us all... I took it upon myself to provide you with the best that the Initiative has to offer. And uh... here you go."

For the first time in Andromeda, Sara Ryder found herself speechless; her mouth moved, but no words came as she gripped the helmet in her hands, eyes staring blankly at her own reflection in the plastiglass faceplate. Her mind, already a mess from all the things she had to keep track of, now had all those things flung about by the whirlwind that ripped through it, chaos unleashed, resulting in a dull whine in her ears.

" _Engineer Walker's suggestion to repurpose Alec Ryder's N7 Pathfinder Armor into your personal armor was submitted to Lieutenant Harper five days ago, Sara,_ " chimed S.A.M. around them. " _He argued that your safety was paramount to the mission, a sentiment which Lieutenant Harper accepted after a lengthy debate. The Initiative's highest-ranking N7, Major August Bradley of Prodromos, seconds the idea, but cautions you to respect the sanctity of wearing the N7 armor._ "

N7 armor! Only the best of the Alliance's soldiers were even allowed to wear this, and now she was holding a set in her hands, custom-tailored to her specs and which was previously worn by her father? She didn't even meet the minimum requirements for N training back in the Milky Way!

"I..." Sara set the helmet down and touched the chestpiece, pressing her palm to the plating, cold under her skin. With S.A.M. explaining what went down, her thoughts had reorganized themselves somewhat, but...

A flash of anger made itself known in her mind as she rounded on Jon, her fists balling. This was Dad's armor. Who was Jon to go and submit ideas to repurpose it?

 _ **Sara, I believe Walker has your best interests at heart when he did what he did. He deliberated for a lengthy period of time before sending the request in, and also went through the procedure of acquiring your father's armor with due courtesy and respect for Alec Ryder. He believed that Alec would want you to wear the armor, that you may survive the harsh conditions that you may find yourself in.**_

Sam's private note stilled Sara's tongue as she fixed her eyes on Jon, him taking a step back, his hands coming up, his own eyes uncertain, afraid, much like that time they discussed Dad's death in Hyperion's mess hall, the only time she'd seen him like that. So far, he'd done nothing but prop her up, helped her along when the chips were down; she'd thought that Jon's statement of him honoring Dad's last request to look after her was just to take her mind off Dad's demise.

Then came Eos, and she'd experienced, firsthand, how Jon ferociously stuck to protecting her, even if it meant taking shots aimed her way, letting his shields absorb the impacts. And how, post-Eos, when everyone walked away, Jon was the only one who stayed. She'd felt like broken glass then, everything that happened to her finally catching up, turning her into a sobbing mess. He stayed, and he practically hugged her back together, the glass reforming, still broken, but she was whole once more, allowing her to return to the Nexus with her head held high, vowing to herself to find a home for everyone...

Sara exhaled and allowed her fists to unclench, loosening her shoulders. She wiped a hand across her face and exhaled a second time, letting it out slow, along with the anger and the confusion. She was where she was right now thanks to her teammate, and the Initiative was in a better shape than any of the many alternatives. She should be thanking Jon instead of reprimanding him!

And yet, she couldn't let go of the fact that Jon had obtained Dad's armor without her knowledge or permission as Pathfinder. It wasn't just any armor, either. And to reshape it felt like... it felt like dishonoring Dad's memory, somehow, in some way that Sara couldn't quite put into words, but she could feel it, the indignation, the horror, even, at altering something meant to be timeless and honored...

Sara raised a hand and pressed her forehead into a palm, a humorless chuckle escaping her. Dealing with Tann and Addison was far easier than dealing with... this. Why did Jon have to make everything so damned difficult for her? Why was his presence so fucking comforting, that she began to crave it all the time? A feeling that she didn't feel with anyone else, not even Cora, who was like a big sis to her? Or Liam, whom she flirted with a little before launch?

 _God, why?_

* * *

He looks so relaxed _, mused Sara as she watched him from behind a sunlight-dappled tree, the breeze playing with the loose strands of hair over her forehead. She'd all but given up trying to tame her locks, and didn't bother retying her ponytail or even caring about how she looked as she politely excused herself from the gaggle of admirers she'd met entirely by accident near the Hydroponic Gardens. She was never a winner in the looks category anyway, so why give a damn?_

 _Sara rested her arms on the railing, nodding silently at a Security officer who passed, clad in full armor and toting a rifle. The salarian nodded in return, speaking softly into her comm, continuing her rounds. She failed to notice the officer quietly relocating the people in the immediate area to other parts of the Gardens, or that other Security members on patrol on the residential floors directly above the Gardens watched everyone in the corridors with a wary eye, slowing their pace, watching for any potential threats to the Pathfinder._

 _Sara tried to clear her mind, one of Dad's techniques: the day's meetings with Tann and Addison left her exhausted, wondering if half the job of being a Pathfinder was to actually listen to them bicker again while either one of them was trying to brief her on everything they'd missed the first time around. The pre-Hyperion days of the Nexus, the uprising, the -_ no, all that's done. Relax, now. That's what you came here for, remember?

 _Breathe in. Count three. Out._

 _Felt the sun on her face, the breeze tussling her hair, the soft fabric of her jumpsuit against her skin._

 _In. Out. Stay in the moment, take time to feel._

 _She wiggled her toes in her boots, the tension slowly draining from her, her eyebrows unknotting, her lips gently peeling away from each other, she'd been pressing them together for so long. The chirping birds helped, reminding her of warm summer days back on Earth, when they were vacationing at the family house by the lake..._

 _She opened her eyes, lifting her head, and the white against the green and brown caught her attention. Her spirits lifted as she recognized Jon - as did her heart rate. It surprised her, caught her off-guard, and Sara paused._

 _She still couldn't quite put her finger on just what it was that caused her mouth to go dry whenever she laid eyes on the quiet, professional combat engineer. Or what it was that made her heart leap into her throat when he looked at her, his oak-brown eyes soft and understanding at the position that she was in. Even now, she struggled with herself, her hands tightening around the rail, her body ready to bolt if he ever looked up and saw her, but her mind told her to stay, that he wouldn't bite, a conflict that she couldn't resolve because_ both _sides were her, wanting to go and to stay at the same time -_

 _Sara ducked violently as Jon stood, her breaths ragged as she watched him - praying hard he didn't see her - mumble to himself, then ambled off._

 _She had half a mind to go after him, to be in his presence once more, the familiar wash of comfort and security something she'd gotten very used to. But then again, what would he think, seeing her again, remembering the hug? The very awkward, please-don't-go, seen-it-in-corny-romance-vids kind of hug?_

 _It wasn't until the same salarian Security officer came by, wondering aloud at the Pathfinder's odd position, squatted on the floor with her arms up, gripping the railing, that Sara's mind cleared, finding herself in a very undignified position, even less dignified than that time Cass challenged her to a drinking contest and she woke up in a Presidium pool with a Keeper peering at her. She stood, ignoring the aching in her arms, greeted the officer politely, and fled as fast as her legs could take her, hoping hard that nobody else saw what she'd done._

* * *

"Sara. Sara!"

The rough shaking brought her out of her reverie. "Wh-what?"

Jon's face, his brow furrowed, her shoulder in an iron grip. "Sara, snap out of it! We have an imminent collision alert, you're needed at the bridge, NOW!"

He practically dragged her out of the crew quarters, the situation grimly serious as Sara noticed that the entire ship was bathed in warning red lights. She shook herself free of Jon's grip and strode quickly over to the console, which rose up to greet her. "Kallo! Status?"

"We're on a collision course with unknown objects!" The salarian's voice was higher than usual, his hands flying across his controls. Sara gripped the console, checking her own settings. "Make corrections, now! Sam, are you on this?"

" _Collision is imminent. Pathfinder, your input is required._ "

A pair of glowing handprints appeared on the console in front of Sara. Her heart pounding at the thought of smashing into something at F.T.L. speeds - which would undoubtedly end in them becoming space dust - Sara jammed both her hands onto the markings, her voice shaking slightly as she ordered, "All stop, NOW!"

Jon wrapped his arm around Kallo's headrest as the Tempest abruptly exited F.T.L. travel, the sudden deceleration pushing him up against the back of the pilot's couch. He peered out from behind the couch when the Tempest drifted to a slow stop, Vetra, Drack and Lieutenant Harper hurrying onto the bridge behind him, PeeBee emerging warily from her hidey hole to join them, all trying to see what was going on.

They all stood and stared out the viewport at the huge... thing they'd come face to face with. A thing that spanned the entire width of the viewport - and kept going; it was like looking at a horizon, turning one's head from side to side just to see the entirety of it. Light from nearby stars bathed it in a warm yellow-white glow, but there was nothing warm and welcoming about the thing as Jon studied it further, his eyes widening. There was no mistaking it, those organic curves and that characteristic dark green color.

They'd just exited F.T.L. into the path of a kett starship.


	28. First Contact

Silence.

Sara's hands slipped from the Pathfinder's console as she took an involuntary step back, her blood cold. The kett starship was _huge_ , even bigger than the Destiny Ascension back in the Milky Way, and Sara knew just how _massive_ the asari dreadnought was, having done a flyby with her squad on a Kodiak, all of them murmuring in awe and amazement at the flagship of the Citadel Fleet as they circled it.

This monstrosity was easily two or three times that of the Ascension.

No one spoke as they drew closer to the kett ship, all of them too stunned to find an appropriate response to the situation. Which was why everyone flinched when Suvi suddenly announced to the bridge, "Kett ships, a dozen - no, more!"

Sara could make out several smaller blobs moving towards them, initially hidden by the sheer bulk of the kett starship. As they drew closer, the blobs hardened into definable shapes, each a kett ship. There were at least thirty of those ships in the viewport, all coming to a halt before them, all facing the Tempest.

"They've got us pinned against the Scourge!" reported Kallo, his voice tight. Over at her station, Suvi's voice wavered slightly as she reported, "They've locked navigation and jammed our comms. I can't get a distress signal out to the Nexus!"

" _They're scanning us, Pathfinder._ "

Frustration welled up in Sara's chest, iron bands squeezing the breath out of her. She'd gone through all the possible scenarios she could think up of at that moment, what to do as the captain of the Tempest; nothing stood out that meant their survival. And so she had turned, to ask Cora what they should do; Cora merely shook her head, her shoulders slumping. To have her second admit that there was _nothing_ they could do in such a situation meant that it was well and truly hopeless.

Then again, how could anyone be prepared for something like this, jumping right into the midst of an entire enemy fleet in an unarmed ship? With no warning, too, merely a collision alert; Sara thought that they'd probably encountered an asteroid belt and all Kallo had to do was to correct their course.

The pressure ratcheted up inside Sara; she slammed a fist onto the top of Kallo's console, causing the salarian to jump in his couch, and snapped at the ceiling, "Well, scan them back!" The outburst did nothing to ease the anxiety she felt, the cold she felt in the pit of her stomach, wondering what came next. Would all of them be blown to kingdom come in the next few minutes? Drifting hopelessly in the freezing void of space, feeling her face harden into a grimace of pain as vacuum sucked the precious, life-sustaining moisture and air from her body? Watching the rest of her crew suffer as she did, all of their bodies contorting, knowing that they'll die out here, all alone, the Nexus - heck, anyone at all in this fucking unforgiving universe - having no idea of what happened to them?

Sara tried to control her breathing; she was on the threshold, she knew, the razor's edge, a simple touch and she'd pitch, balance lost, into the abyss. The only thing keeping her from losing it completely was the fact that she was the Pathfinder, the last best hope for the Initiative, and that S.A.M. was seeing what she was seeing...

There was surely a way out of this situation, a path they could take... _a path!_

She shot a sharp look at Kallo, ignoring the petulant look her was giving her, having just dented his console a minute earlier. "Kallo. Any chance you can plot a flight path out of here?"

"It's... possible. Maybe. Just hope no one fires a shot before I can find it," mumbled the salarian, dropping his eyes to his displays, fingers flying across the controls, activating toggles and programming burn times. "The Scourge is everywhere! It'll be almost..." his voice dropped into inaudible mumbling as he blinked rapidly, trying his level best to find a hole, any hole, through which they could escape the hopeless situation they were in right now.

* * *

 _"I'm really sorry, miss."_

 _"Like I said, it's no big deal." The asari flourished the juice pack in her hand. "It's kind of you to get me one of these. I've been running around all week, trying to catch the Pathfinder."_

 _"Well, she can be a busy person," replied Jon, still feeling a tinge of guilt at having walked into this journalist. He'd helped her to her feet, berating himself for being unmindful of his surroundings, wrapped up in his thoughts, and offered to buy her a -drink to make up for it._

 _"Which is why I've got you!" The asari poked the straw between her lips and took a long sip, casting a sidelong glance at him. "I'm beginning to wonder if what just happened was truly an accident, or the goddess had heard my prayers, you know," she hummed, smiling. "I was looking high and low for the Pathfinder, and one of her crew just so happened to bump into me, literally."_

 _And, of course, she wanted an exclusive with the next best thing, since she couldn't get a hold of the Pathfinder herself - any one of her team._

 _Jon chuckled and unconsciously touched the Pathfinder's team patch on his left arm, the identifier as to his profession in the Initiative. They came to a halt directly above the Tempest, looking down at the ship._

 _"I'm not sure how much I can say, though. Standard disclaimer."_

 _"I know, the Pathfinder's the one who calls the shots," nodded the asari. "I won't be recording anything we talk about here. I just want to get a_ feel _of what it's like out there, you know? A lot of us here on the Nexus, we aren't the frontline types, civilians mostly, living a comfortable, orderly life. And then there's you guys, pathfinding for us all, risking your necks..."_

 _"All in a day's work, miss...?"_

 _"Oh, I forgot, we haven't properly introduced ourselves yet!" The asari sprang back and stuck a hand out. "Nice to meet you. I'm Keri T'Vessa, Heleus News Service."_

 _"Jonathan Chang Walker, Pathfinder Team."_

 _T'Vessa's delicate-looking, long fingers belied the strong, firm grip, and she held on a fraction of a second longer than was necessary, her eyes and his locked on each other._

 _"Well, Walker, how about we start off with something simple? How about..." T'Vessa prodded her chin as she cast her mind about, bouncing on her heels. Jon closed his fist, still feeling her warmth on his skin, and tried to suppress the sudden heat that had suffused his face, having had physical contact with another female, and an attractive one at that..._

 _"How about this: what's the Pathfinder team_ really _about? We all know from the infomercials that it's_ 'the tip of the spear.' _"_

 _"As Jien Garson loved to say," mumbled Jon regretfully, remembering all the flowery buzzwords that appeared in the infomercials, the person who put them together now gone, unable to see the fruits of her efforts. "She's spot-on, actually. No one had set foot on Habitat Seven, and it was the stuff of nightmares. Eos was a different story, with Promise and Resilience, but we were the first to gain access to that Remnant vault that cleared the skies."_

 _"And I heard some accounts that you fought your way through quite a number of kett. It must have been... hairy."_

 _"It was, to an extent, because we didn't know what their weapons were capable of at first," said Jon, frowning as he recalled the heat-based projectiles. "Habitat Seven broke us in, and by Eos we were holding our own, so..." He shrugged._

 _"Some on the Nexus are getting worried," said T'Vessa. "Rumor has it, the Initiative is beginning to look more and more like an invading force rather than a scientific expedition."_

 _Jon bit his lip as he processed that nugget of information; he'd forgotten that journalists were supposed to ask the difficult questions. And he'd never quite had an opportunity to speak to a journalist before. Even if he was off the record now, he had to tread carefully, as a representative of the Pathfinder team._

 _"The Initiative_ is indeed _a scientific expedition, Miss T'Vessa. It's just... plain bad luck, I suppose, that our entrance to this galaxy became so messed up that we had to resort to violence." Jon pointed to the Tempest below them. "See that? No shipboard weaponry of any sort. First and foremost, we're explorers."_

* * *

Jon twisted his gaunlets on and checked his helmet. A green readout on his omnitool told him that his armor and underarmor were in working order, and an airtight seal had been made. He smiled grimly as he recalled that conversation with the journalist - " _We're explorers._ " Well, they were explorers, all right. Explorers who'd just waltzed their way into a really tight spot, surrounded by the enemy.

Clamping his Raptor to his back, Jon strode back out onto the bridge, his eyes already adjusted to the deep red of the warning lights. At the first sign of trouble, his instincts had kicked in, and he rushed to gear up for any eventuality, though now that he had time to think about it, prepping wouldn't help him much if the kett decide to open fire and blow them all into stardust right then and there. He may survive being spaced, yeah, but what was to say the kett won't stop shooting at anything that moved until they were all _really_ shot up into stardust?

"Pathfinder, the Tempest's systems are being... hacked," announced Suvi uncertainly. "But I'm detecting no malicious activity in the mainframe. It's like..."

All of them looked up, Suvi trailing off - Jon felt a shiver pass down the length of his spine, his hand reaching slowly for his Raptor - as the viewport slowly turned opaque, black. The floodlights trained on them by the kett starship was dimmed to nonexistence, the whole bridge now an enclosed, red-painted space. It was highly disconcerting to Jon to see all of his teammates looking about uncertainly, their features nearly blotted out by the red warning lights, a shade of crimson he was acutely and very unsettlingly familiar with.

A vidpane blinked up on the blacked-out viewport. Suvi lifted her hands off her console and looked at Sara. "I... didn't do that."

Jon nearly jumped as a monstrous face appeared in the vidpane, a pair of eyes appraising them. The Raptor in his hands, thumb flicking the safety off, crosshairs already pointed squarely between those eyes -

"Walker, it's a comm channel, stand down!" Lieutenant Harper whispered urgently, resting a hand on his forearm and pushing it down, the Raptor dipping, Jon's finger slowly easing off the trigger as he realized he'd nearly shot out the viewport, his heart in his throat.

It was definitely a kett, Jon could tell. Same bony growths, wedge-shaped head. But there was something different about this kett than all those they'd encountered so far - it took Jon a moment to realize it was those eyes. They were cold, studying them just as they were studying it. The kett they'd fought so far, their eyes didn't have the same level of... _intelligence_ that this one showed. It looked... humanlike, a wide nose separating those calculating bluish orbs, mouth downturned, but the lack of cheeks - or facial muscles of any kind - gave the kett a truly alien look, made even more apparent from the armor it was wearing, only a fraction of it visible, dark green and organic-looking.

It spoke, the downturned mouth barely moving, and yet its voice boomed all around the bridge, deeper than any Milky Way species' voice should be. And those eyes never shifted from them, looking right at them, unblinking.

" **Where is the one who activated the vault?** "

Jon's eyes swiveled to his left, waiting to see if Lieutenant Harper had any orders for him. Ahead, Sara was staring at the vidpane, the red light turning her brown hair almost black. Kallo had withdrawn from his console, like Suvi, scanning his infopanes in wide-eyed wonder. Or was it apprehension, that the kett managed to get into the Tempest's systems? _His_ systems?

" **Their genetic signature is there. Answer me!** "

* * *

Sara's fingers tightened into a fist. The fact that the kett didn't just blow them all to kingdom come wasn't lost to her - deep down, she was grateful for that - but the way that this kett was speaking in a rather rude manner sparked off something within her, a desire to rebel, to push back. Just who this kett thought it was, saying such a thing as ' _answer me_ ' to them, to _her_?

She stared right back at the kett, her own eyes burning, and her voice rang loud and clear. "My name is Ryder, captain of this ship, and Pathfinder with the Initiative." She kept her head high, her jaw set, defiant, even as her brain caught up with her, the thought that being belligerent right back at the commander of the kett forces - was it the commander, anyway? - might not be such a bright idea after all, with all those ships pointed at them...

The kett was silent, judging her, his glowing blue eyes still on her, on them, before it spoke once more.

" **You'll come with me.** "

The Tempest jerked and began moving forward. Sara spun. "Kallo?"

The salarian pilot was tapping repeatedly at a holo on his console. He looked up at Sara with wide eyes, his bottom lip quivering. "We... we're being steered into their ship! And they've locked me out of my own systems!"

So the kett wanted to capture them? Sara took a step forward, ignoring the clang of boots on the floor behind her, PeeBee frantically running from wallscreen to wallscreen, trying to gain access, before throwing her hands up in despair and booking it to the escape pods, Drack glaring disapprovingly at her retreating back.

 _ **Pathfinder, I'm slowly regaining control of the Tempest's systems. I require a distraction.**_

Sara's licked her lip, her mouth dry, and held a hand up to the vidpane. "What do you want?" she said, in a voice that she hoped didn't falter too much, her imagination running wild at what the kett would do to them, and at the ray of hope that S.A.M. was giving them, even if she didn't know what he was about to pull off.

The kett stared coolly at her and blinked once. " **I won't explain what you can't understand.** "

"I think... we're in some sort of tractor beam," called out Cora behind her, checking her omnitool. "The hull's intact, so they aren't using tethering cables. If we can regain control of the Tempest, a three-second full thrust should break us free."

 _ **A few more seconds, Sara.**_

Sara nodded, feeling the vibrations of the ship through her boots, a constant hum. Now that she knew what S.A.M. was planning to do, from what Cora said, she braced herself, her clawed hand gripped onto the top of Kallo's console. She fixed her eyes on the kett once more, suppressing a shudder at just how the alien kept _looking_ at them, studying them, devoid of emotion.

"Actually, I know a lot about the Remnant," she lied, keeping her voice light. "We should compare notes! Let's see..." Sara racked her brains for something to say, to buy S.A.M. those precious few seconds he needed. "For starters, how about atmo processors? They're -"

" **ENOUGH**." That single word, thundering throughout the bridge with such force, silenced Sara, the words dying in her throat. " **Your defiance is naive and reckless.** " For the first time, the kett's eyes left them, looking to its left at something out of frame, then snapped back to the Tempest. " **This day marks the beginning of your greatness. Do not resist.** "

The Tempest rumbled as it picked up speed, the vidpane and the kett's menacing visage fading away, the viewport clearing once more. They were too close to the kett starship than Sara was comfortable with, a rectangular hole appearing directly ahead of them, the Tempest's bridge blazing with glaring white light -

" _I have regained control of the Tempest, Pathfinder. Pilot Jath, I have plotted a potential course through the Scourge._ "

"Do it!" Sara leapt forward to meet the Pathfinder's console, slapping her hand down on the shipwide comm holo. "Everyone brace! Ride's about to get bumpy!"

* * *

Jon gripped the neck of Kallo's couch, using it as a handhold. "Mr. Jath, you get us out of here in one piece, I'll buy you a drink next time we're on the Nexus."

The salarian glanced at him, pausing for a moment in his calculations, and nodded sharply. "The sentiment is appreciated. Now -" The salarian turned back to his console and waggled his fingers, rolling his shoulders. He inhaled. "Let's fly."

He jabbed a finger on a holo.

The Tempest juddered violently as its main thrusters fired, propelling them even closer to the kett starship, fighting the beam. Then, quite abruptly, the juddering stopped, and the Tempest drifted free -

Kallo smacked a holo on his right and drew his left hand across his controls. Manual flight. Jon tightened his grip and bent his knees. This was going to be rough.

* * *

 _The Initiative survey ship, free of its invisible bonds, executed a perfect hairpin turn and accelerated away from the massive kett starship. Immediately, a pair of kett destroyers were dispatched, but a terse message through their comms forbade them from opening fire, only to chase._

 _The Tempest's minimal, flat profile allowed it to seek out empty patches in the Scourge, powering through with no problems - except that the destroyers chasing it had no such advantage, being shaped like upright Ts, and one of them struck a patch of Scourge while trying to fly though a hole, spun out of control, and struck a Scourge outcrop immediately aft of the Tempest. The explosion rocked the survey ship, its right wing trailing short-lived fire and shedding hull plates._

* * *

"Report!"

"Enemy destroyed, Pathfinder!" exclaimed Suvi, monitoring her readouts. "But there's damage to aft sensors!"

Sara's hands slipped from the Pathfinder's console as Kallo jerked the Tempest to the right without warning, stumbling back a step, windmilling her arms to keep herself balanced. Another hard jink, to the left this time, threw Sara completely off-balance, the sudden burst of acceleration sending her sternward, her boots scrabbling on the deck -

"Gotcha!"

The breath knocked from her lungs, her heart beating rapidly, Sara looked up gratefully. "Thanks."

Jon had lunged forward when she'd begun to tumble, and falling to a knee, caught her sideways in a half-sitting position, minimizing the impact she might have had smacking into the floor of the bridge. He nodded, releasing his fingers from her arm as Sara rose unsteadily, the deck tilting under her, more warning alerts sounding on Suvi's console.

"Second kett pursuer destroyed!"

Sara gripped the Pathfinder's console hard, not quite believing what she was seeing right in front of her. The Scourge appeared to be _reacting_ to their presence, the same sickly yellow light she'd seen back at Habitat Seven playing across the dark tendrils, keeping pace easily with them, jumping from tendril to tendril. The Tempest was passing through a tunnel of Scourge, and the patch of space at the end of the tunnel looked discouragingly far away, stars winking at her as Kallo put on a fresh burst of speed, urging the Tempest on.

And S.A.M. wasn't exactly helping, intoning at that exact moment, " _It will be tight._ "

"Kallo..." Vetra's voice was tense as she held onto the pilot's couch.

* * *

 _A deep, continuous rumble behind the Tempest, even through the vacuum of space, told the crew of the survey ship that they were trying to outrun a spacestorm, the Scourge closing in on itself, finding an intruder in its midst. Flashes of sickly yellow lit up the Tempest from all sides, small explosions where Scourge met Scourge, the unknowable substance reacting to multiple collisions between tendrils. The Tempest, already running at full speed barring that of F.T.L. travel, was hard-pressed to continue on its flight path and simultaneously dodge encroaching Scourge protrusions, scraping its left side for half a second on a thin wisp of Scourge; the contact felt as if it had just grazed another ship, and nearly threw the Tempest off-center._

 _Its perseverance paid off, however, as it finally - after what felt like an eternity - managed to burst out of the narrowing tunnel it found itself in, its forward sensors detecting nothing but space ahead of them, the Scourge dwindling behind them, explosions from where the tunnel had closed up._

* * *

"YES!" Kallo screeched, pumping a fist in the air, a grin on his face.

Sara exhaled slowly and turned to face her crew, thankful that the red warning lights had deactivated and normal lighting restored. Suvi slumped back into her couch, smiling tiredly at her. "All clear, Pathfinder. All clear." Behind her, Cora patted the science officer's shoulder and nodded at Sara. Vetra was telling Jon, thumping Kallo on the shoulder, that the salarian was one heck of a pilot. Even Drack came forward, his deep voice carrying across the bridge, "Hahaha, nice work, kid! That was some damned good flying there!"

Sara supposed it was a high compliment, knowing the frosty relations between the krogan and the salarians. Kallo's smiled faded from his face when he'd seen who had spoken, but after a second of two of indecisiveness, offered the old krogan a nod and a tentative smile before turning back to his console.

"Is it... is it over? Are we dead?" Half of PeeBee's face poked out from behind the door to the escape pods.

"No, silly! Kallo here got us out of that mess!" Vetra gestured at the pilot, who squirmed a little in his seat - it was obvious he wasn't used to this level of attention. But he was still smiling, pleased at himself for managing to maneuver through the gauntlet of a flight.

The jubilant mood on the bridge fizzled out when Gil's voice echoed around them, " _Ryder! We've got trouble down here. You need to find us a place to land, now!_ " In the background was a very ominous hissing, and a warning tone.

Kallo frowned and brought up a status pane. "Gil... is right, Pathfinder. We've sustained serious damage to parts of the rear of the Tempest."

"I'll go see what I can help with," Jon said immediately, before striding off the bridge. Vetra backpedaled after him, chirping, "What he said," and took off after the combat engineer.

Sara took a deep breath. There would be time to celebrate later, so she tamped down the excitement she felt, collecting herself, and turned to Suvi. "Okay... where'd we end up, anyway?"

"Sensors are damaged, but I think..." PeeBee skipped up to the science officer and peered over her shoulder at her console, her face lit by the orange holos, her eyes bright. "I think... we're at the vault's coordinates!"

The planet ahead of them seemed to confirm Suvi's statement, growing ever-larger in the viewport - PeeBee let out an excited squeak. Since they were approaching it from the night side, there wasn't much to the planet at a glance, other than the orange rivers of lava that crisscrossed the planet's surface.

Sara exhaled and tried to recall what the Nexus data packets had said about lava planets. "Gil, give it what you can, we're setting down. Kallo, take us in."

* * *

"You've got to stop doing this."

The Charlatan panted and looked up. Keema towered above him, her hands on her hips as she looked down at him, at his handiwork. He sighed, the buzz in his head receding slowly, and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

He only succeeded in making his face wet, a metallic tang in the air.

Keema sank to a knee, touching the Charlatan on the arm. "Babe, you really need to see someone who can find out what's wrong with you. This is very unlike you; someone's bound to find out sooner or later!"

"Not if I have you, Keema darling," drawled the Charlatan, lowering himself onto the ground with a grunt, resting his arms atop his knees. His gloves were dark blue at one point, their original color, but what Keema saw was wine-purple, the blue mixing with still-wet blood. "You always look out for me, so there's nothing to be worried about!"

She stiffened at the near-feral grin he gave her, that look instilling - for the first time since she'd met the Charlatan - a sense of dread in her. "Evidence I can vanish, but use your head, think for a moment! Think! How can you explain all those disappearances? All those people, who spoke to you in person at one point or another? Anyone who's paying attention will have made the connection, and your identity's out in the open!"

Keema didn't know when she'd sprung to her feet, practically shouting at her lover. Recent times had been trying for her, what with having to set up multiple false flag ops to divert attention away from those very disappearances she'd mentioned. And some of those disappearances had been Outcasts - minor ones, sure, but she couldn't risk Sloane Kelly getting wind of her men vanishing into thin air all the time!

And what if one day the Charlatan decided to 'disappear' a high-ranking Outcast? One who was favored by Sloane Kelly herself?

There was something wrong with him, she could tell; as the Charlatan, he'd begun to show aggressive tendencies when conducting Collective business, and as his public face, he'd begun shirking job offers, which had raised eyebrows. Keema had to plant several Collective agents in the civilian population of Kadara Port to spread the rumor that he'd been ill recently and would not be taking jobs at this time, but she could only do so much, the ruse could only be kept up for so long, before people started to become curious, asking all sorts of inconvenient questions.

As it were, there were some in the Collective who'd expressed their surprise at being tasked to snatch certain people - the Collective always operated from the shadows, a step ahead of the Outcasts by virtue of a vast information network, and this new directive seemed... out-of-character, even for the Charlatan. Keema closed her eyes, touching the Charlatan's face, cupping it with her hand. "Babe," she whispered. "I know someone back home. We could get her to find out why you're like this. Things are getting complicated here, and you know how much I hate complications."

She smiled tenderly at him, letting her feelings for him show in her eyes, hoping that he would come to his senses and agree. It was hard to do that, considering the other thing that she'd found out when she'd been probing around, listening in on the chatter, feeling the pulse. She loved the Charlatan, yes, loved how rough he was with her behind the scenes, their couplings mostly quick and dirty, but to find out that she wasn't his first...

The Charlatan looked up at her, touching her hand with his own, something shifting in his eyes.

* * *

"It's... done!" Jon released the piping he'd been holding as Vetra jumped out of the way, in case more flames came spurting out the crack. The seal held firm, and the both of them produced a collective sigh of relief.

Gil Brodie collapsed into the only chair in the core room, wiping his brow. "Shit. That was a close one." He threw a thumbs-up at the both of them. "Thanks, you two. Couldn't have managed to plug that leak by myself."

"Need something for that burn, Gil?" queried Vetra, pointing at the blacked spot on Gil's right shoulder where a jet of flame had singed it. The ship's engineer poked at the spot, but didn't flinch. "Just the outer layer. I'm fine, but damn! What a waste of a perfectly good jumpsuit."

"Well, lucky the damage wasn't that bad," quipped Vetra.

Gil waved a hand around the room, the core vibrating next to them as he spoke. "Internally, we managed to avert a major disaster. Externally, though... I'd need to eyeball the damage, sensors are scrambled. That is, if the place we're headed to won't kill us the second we step outside."

"Here's to hoping, then," nodded Jon. "Anything else, Gil?"

"I can hold things together for now. I'll holler if I need you two again."

"Take care now, Gil." Vetra waved as they left the core room, the doors sliding shut behind them, muffling the droning of the core. Jon pressed the sides of his helmet and removed it with a hiss, running a hand through his hair, removing his cap as well. "Damn."

"Yeah."

Sara was still at the Pathfinder's console when they reentered the bridge, the viewport glowing orange as the Tempest descended through the planet's atmosphere. Jon stepped up behind her, his helmet under his arm. "Pathfinder, core room secured. Had a fuel leak, but it's patched now. Gil says he'll need to see the external damage before he could determine what's what, though."

Sara turned her head at the report, the orange glow outlining the visible half of her face. In that moment, the glow catching the curves of her cheek and forehead and nose and lips beautifully, the rest hidden in shadow, Sara Ryder looked like a dark goddess, mysterious and deadly, not the uncertain young woman that Jon knew. Fire seemed to dance in her eyes as she regarded him, turning fully to face him now, her lips curling slowly into a smile. Jon swallowed, feeling light-headed, and resisted the urge to bow, to acknowledge the darkly beautiful vision that stood before him -

"Good," she said, and the illusion splintered immediately, the voice not quite matching up with the view he had of her. Jon blinked; Sara the goddess became Sara the Pathfinder as she came up to him, the bridge's lights illuminating her now instead, the flickering fire that shrouded her fading into the background. "Looks like a lava planet to me, so if you're going out there, Jon, stay suited up, okay?"

Clearing his head, Jon nodded sharply. "Aye aye, ma'am."

She patted him on the arm. "Thanks," she added quietly so only he could hear, moving closer to him. "For catching me just now."

"Anytime, Sara," he replied, smiling warmly. The smile disappeared as Suvi hesitantly spoke. "Uh, Pathfinder? We're being... contacted."

"What?"

"I've picked up a comm signal, but it's neither Initiative nor kett..." Suvi checked her settings.

"Three - no, four - six flyers around us!" Kallo reported, alarm in his voice. "How did they manage to get this close without us noticing?"

"Attack pattern?" asked Jon, his brow furrowing, his muscles tensing up once more. Sara checked her omnitool, linking to the Tempest's systems to see for herself.

"Oddly, no... they're tailing us, escorting us in. And they're definitely _not_ kett..."

Vetra's slow chuckle was audible in the quiet that followed Kallo's statement. She looked at her omnitool for a while longer, watching a feed from the Tempest's external sensors before putting it to sleep, ignoring the stares pointed her way, looking right at Sara.

"Well, Pathfinder, I think we might have stumbled upon the angaran homeworld."

* * *

Sara blinked. "The what now?"

"I'll explain after you answer _that_ ," Vetra pointed at the blinking icon on Suvi's console. "Better hurry it up, too."

Confused, Sara nodded at Suvi to open the channel.

The voice was scratchy, but Sara could make out words being spoken. It wasn't any language that the Milky Way species had, because Sara couldn't understand anything it was saying, the translation module failing to recognize the alien language and converting it to a form that all of them could understand.

" _Tove jagalesh do!_ "

Sara froze. "Uh..."

A second time, more insistent, the static clearing up as Suvi fine-tuned the channel. " _Tove jagalesh do!_ "

"Say something, Sara!" hissed Cora from behind her.

Panic seized Sara's heart, her mouth going dry; things were moving too fast! What was she supposed to say? Was this an alien species they hadn't met before, other than the kett? And how did Vetra know about them?

"Sara, just be honest," Jon's soft voice next to her, him laying a hand on her shoulder. "First contact protocol, remember?"

Sara nodded tightly, Jon's familiar presence helping somewhat, the warmth in his hand reassuring. She took a deep breath.

"Hello? We're visitors from another galaxy," she began. At Jon's encouraging nod, she continued, strengthening her voice. "Our intentions are peaceful. We stumbled into a cloud of Scourge and ended up here by accident."

Silence, only the soft hum of the Tempest's core far aft. Everyone's eyes were on Sara, PeeBee and Suvi exchanging glances before looking at her. Jon's hand tightened on her shoulder as he stared fixedly out the viewport, listening intently; once again, Sara leaned unconsciously into his hand, worry nagging at her brain, the blood pounding in her ears.

" _Paav. Nele set do._ "

Short, curt. Everyone exhaled at the same time, but the unease persisted. What did that mean? Did whoever on the other end actually understood them?

"They've... sent us a navpoint, Ryder," reported Kallo slowly, in disbelief. "It's not far."

"Follow it. We need to set down."

Sara detached herself from Jon's hand, supporting herself against the Pathfinder's console as she swept her eyes across the blasted plains that they were flying over at present. It was a dark, forbidding landscape, rivers of orange-yellow lava winding their way through knobbly, blocky mounds of black rock. The sky they were flying through was choked with ash clouds, a slight red coloration to them.

Just where were they going to set down in a place like this?

"Look," said Jon, pointing. "Up ahead!"

The green was a surprise, blending so seamlessly with the black rock that a definable border was impossible to determine. Here, the air began to clear, offering the crew of the Tempest a crystal-clear view of the lush green jungles ahead of them, hills poking through the dense vegetation like fingers. The clouds changed, too, from dark red and dense to white and wispy; Sara could make out a silver snake coiling through the green, realizing after a second it was a river, undulating lazily into the distance.

Compared to Eos, or Habitat Seven, this place was fertile and alive; Sara could feel it in her bones as she drank in the sights, her mouth forming an O. This was what the infomercials had promised, a golden world that could sustain life. And the shock of seeing something so full of life after all that lava and ash and a killer space cloud and a close call with hostile aliens...

"Would you look at that," she wondered aloud. "It's beautiful."

* * *

"Vetra? You mentioned the anga... anga-something?" Jon frowned. "Are they another alien race?"

"The angara. Yeah, they are," replied the smuggler, leaning against the wall, crossing her arms. "Met a few of them while I was on Kadara. Strange bunch, very open with their emotions."

"And why didn't you tell us anything about them sooner?" asked Lieutenant Harper sharply. "Why didn't you mention that first contact had already been made?"

Vetra shrugged. "Hey, you were the ones who didn't ask, so don't blame me."

"Wait, wait, so this -" Jon gestured out the viewport. "This isn't Kadara?"

"Quads, no!" rumbled Drack from the rear of the bridge. "Kadara's a complete shithole. Any green it may have like this here died a long time ago."

"So... you two knew?" Jon jerked a finger between Vetra and Drack. "You knew about the angara?"

"I only divulge things when they become relevant, kid," grumbled Drack. "Like how it just did. Any reason for me or Vetra to talk about the angara, when we didn't even meet a single one of them on Eos?"

Jon had to admit, the old krogan had a point. They'd never asked if there was another race of aliens out there besides the kett - except for that one time he'd wondered about the creators of the Remnant tech, and even that was a passing thought...

* * *

"Well, looks like I'll have to go out there and make first contact. First _official_ contact," Sara corrected herself, coming into the small circle. "It's on me, as Pathfinder. Gil, how are things back there?"

" _The sooner I get to see the damage on the outside, the better._ "

"So..."

Everyone was looking at her, a change in the atmosphere. They'd been expecting to land on another world, survey it, find its vault. They certainly didn't expect what they'd gone through, getting intercepted by the kett, a narrow escape, and now landing on the same planet, only to find it may be the homeworld of an unidentified alien species.

 _This is what Pathfinders are supposed to do_ , Sara reminded herself. Dialogue, establishing diplomatic relations with an alien species, if possible. The fact that those angaran flyers didn't shoot them out of the sky was a good indicator they weren't like the kett, hostile on sight, but how to be certain? And they were in a pretty bad spot too, the Tempest having sustained damage.

So many questions, so much uncertainty. And all the answers to those questions lay just outside, once they've landed. Sara steeled herself; if Vetra had spoken to them before, she could, too!

The only difference was that she represented the entire Andromeda Initiative, of course. _No pressure, Sara_.

 _Thanks_ , she replied sarcastically to herself, _a real help you are_.

"You got this, Pathfinder," nodded Suvi from her couch. "We've got your back."

"Have fun out there, kid," growled Drack. "They value honesty, remember that."

"Sara, do you need me to come with you?" asked Cora. "I've got the protocols right here," she tapped her temple. "I can help smoothen things out."

Sara shook her head. "No, can't risk it. If somehow things go south and both of us gets eaten alive today, no matter how hilarious it is, there'll be no one left to become Pathfinder. Get on the vidconn, inform Tann what's about to happen. And... destroy the vids, too, if it comes to that."

Cora smiled and nodded, not expecting wit from the younger Ryder in this momentous occasion. Herself, she would have uttered a prayer to the goddess.

"Please, you're not really going out there on your own, Ryder," flanged Vetra. "I don't think the angara are going to be thrilled we found their secret homeworld."

"I'm not, Vetra," clarified Sara. She turned and clapped a hand to Jon's arm.

"He's coming with."


	29. Humorous Interlude II: A Birthday Gift

_"I'm not, Vetra," clarified Sara. She turned and clapped a hand to Jon's arm._

 _"He's coming with."_

* * *

Jon set the script down and sighed tiredly. The Director had been working them hard recently, and he'd only gotten three hours of sleep last night, but thankfully he was done for the day. Couldn't say the same for the others, though - Sara was out there somewhere, probably filming scenes of boring meetings with Jarun and Foster and Evfra. He wondered how she could deal with all the talking - though the scenes with Evfra were probably easier, acting opposite her real-life boyfriend...

"Credit for your thoughts?"

Jon, his vision darkening around the edges, tilting into the abyss that was sleep, leapt to his feet and whirled around, the blade flashing in his fist.

"WOAH, chill out, man!" The quarian leapt back, the silver arc barely missing him, holding his hands up. "Jon, it's me!"

Jon breathed heavily, glaring at the quarian for a moment before dropping back into the couch, sheathing his knife. " _Ni yao shen me_ _?_ " he muttered curtly, narrowly avoiding spitting the words.

" _Wo_ _? Mei shen me_ , just dropping by to see how you are doing," quipped the quarian, perching himself on the back of the couch and looking down at Jon. "Still jumpy, I see. You really need to relax, man. Lavi's getting worried about you."

"And what do you know about my personal affairs, you prying weasel?"

Raes had always gotten on his nerves, the shifty quarian once making off with Lavi's mask for a lark. While Lavi didn't need the mask to breathe - the onscreen weakness that all quarians have did not extend into real life - Lavi suffered from an anxiety attack soon after, halting filming for an hour while everyone hunted for the mask. And there was that matter of Raes getting caught red-handed, poking about in Scott's trailer...

Suffice to say, the quarian wasn't exactly on the friendliest of terms with just about everyone on set. Especially Jon, who was something of a big brother to the timid Lavi'Nara...

"Why, Jon, I'm hurt!" Raes held a hand up to his chest, leaning back for dramatic effect, his lilac eyes wide. "I did say I was merely checking up on you. After Max and Lace got laid off..."

"Yeah," mumbled Jon, remembering how his friends were notified that the production of Inquisition had been frozen. He still saw them from time to time, though, working on spinoffs by other Directors. "Alright, fine. I'm doing okay, just tired. Now please leave me alone so I can rest."

"Aw." Raes nimbly vaulted over Jon onto another couch. "So cold of you, Jon. I'm of the impression that you're friendly and easily approachable!"

Jon snorted. "That mask wasn't a joke, Raes. Since you're so good at prying, you should have known Lavi suffers from anxiety attacks. And you pissed Drack off, too, I should let you know. _Ruzad_ 's not a toy. He took three hours to dislodge that thermal clip..."

"Woah, woah, damn!" Raes sprang up, staring at Jon. "You told on me?"

Jon smiled, his forearm across his eyes. "Nope... not yet, anyway."

The quarian huffed and stomped away, throwing over his shoulder, "Fine, you prick. I hope you choke in your sleep."

Jon threw an obscene hand gesture at the quarian's retreating back before settling back into the cushions, intending to nap for a while. He patted his hip, to thank his blade for unsettling the -

His knife sheath was empty.

* * *

Sara concentrated hard. Moving her frigate here would open up her left flank to attack, unless... She narrowed her eyes and smiled deviously at Akksul, who narrowed his own eyes, chewing on his lip.

She made her move and threw herself back in her chair, shouting in triumph, "Check! I'll take that destroyer, Akkie."

Akksul gripped his control panel as he watched Ryder's frigate move in for the kill, tiny holographic shipboard missiles detonating against his destroyer, which fizzed and winked out of existence. " _Skkut_! How did I not see that..." He slammed a fist into his knee, looking forlornly at his diminished fleet.

Damn it, he thought he'd figured out Ryder's tells by now...

"Good game?"

Sara looked up and smiled, reaching up with a hand to cup her boyfriend's cheek, a quick kiss. "Hey. Yeah, Akkie here's getting the hang of it."

Evfra clapped a hand on Akksul's shoulder. " _Paavoa_ , _olaon_. How far in?"

"Third stage. We've won one each," Akksul gestured at the tiered holoboard. "I find it far more challenging than anything we have, _yalaon_. You should try it sometime."

"I have, in preparation for some scenes," admitted Evfra, his eyes shimmering in the sunlight. Sara stared dreamily into them as the angara continued to speak, oblivious to his girlfriend's gaze. "You'll do well to master it, Akksul. It requires a lot of thinking."

"I concur, _yalaon_. She's tricked me three times already!" chuckled the onscreen Roekaar leader ruefully.

"RAES! YOU LITTLE F-"

The three of them tilted their heads up to where the recreation room was, Evfra blinking in surprise at the intensity of the shout. "That sounded like..."

"Jon," said Sara, settling back into her chair. "I've told Raes not to poke him, Jon's been working so hard these last few days, but of course does that idiot listen? Course not," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "What Jon does to him, I'm not giving a damn. I've warned him."

"I'm sorry, but who is this 'Re-yes you speak of?" enquired Akksul, confusion on his features.

Evfra patted Sara on her shoulder. "He's a quarian, Akksul. He's apparently -" Evfra's mouth twitched, in annoyance or mirth, Akksul couldn't tell, "- the lead actor for The Quarian Initiative spinoff. We're all getting roles soon, you, me, Sara here..."

"Hrmph. No wonder I've never heard of him. I thought he was that smuggler character on the Kadara set," Akksul snorted.

"It _is_ interesting," conceded Sara, tapping her chin. "Him having a similar-sounding name to Vidal. Raes. Reyes. Ah, well. Who are we to question the Director, huh?" She shrugged. "Your move, Akkie."

A few minutes - and several destroyed starfighters - later, Sara's brow furrowed as something occurred to her. "Hey, Ev?" she looked up at Evfra, curling her fingers around his forearm. "What's the name of the Director for The Quarian Initiative?"

Evfra held a finger up, ignoring Akksul's pained grimace at the decimation of his fleet. "I believe it's a _she_. She goes by the name of -"

* * *

 **~AUTHOR'S NOTE~**

Hello everyone! Once again, another non-canonical chapter, and yes, it's a BIRTHDAY GIFT to another of my friends, **Gwyvian**!

Again, any inaccuracies in ME lore are ignored for this chapter, for the sake of entertainment. Raes is indeed the protagonist of Gwyvian's new Andromeda fic, _**The Quarian Initiative**_. Do hop on over to her Fanfiction page or, even better, to her Tumblr page where not only you'll find _**The Quarian Initiative**_ (for all you quarian fans out there), but also the following fics:

\- _**Resistances and Dalliances**_ (F!Ryder/Evfra), and its sequel;

\- _**Less Resistance, More Dalliance**_ (again, F!Ryder/Evfra)

\- _**Heart of the Forge**_ (F!Ryder/Akksul)

Fans of niche pairings, I do hope you find your itch scratched by Gwyvian's works.

Gwyvian, I hope you enjoyed this little gift! HAPPY ( _belated_ ) BIRTHDAY, milady! _*bows*_


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